Omitted
by inopinion
Summary: Maily one shots, "Story Snippets", and unused scenes - little things I write when I contemplate topics for my story "Something New" (rated M - check it out).
1. Chapter 1: Flipped

I am reluctant to say the least, but I will be Dauntless and it's clear from the crowd that this is where every Dauntless in my age group is spending their time. Lauren's changed into something just as tight as our first date, but even shorter and her boots come up to her knees. Nothing since day one has felt second nature, so I tell myself to just give in, to be apart of this faction one-hundred percent. So I follow her in and let the sound grind out my thoughts. She puts a drink in my hands and is nice enough not to drag me out right a way. She eyes the floor of rything bodies and I know I can't stall much longer. We're catching the gaze of onlookers and Lauren looks a little proud to be with me. A second drink and a few more of those jealous looks, and I'm ready to give in.

She calls into my ear, "You're good on your feet, just move to the music and follow me." She smells like spirits and apples. I follow her out and she immediately puts my hands on her hips. She sways back and forth and I'm stiffly internalizing the push of her hands on my hips down into my toes and before long I think I'm starting to get the hang of this. I look around and see others moving more fluidly or timed exactly with their partners. But I also see girls with full grins bouncing and grinding on each other, no man in site, on a girls night out.

Lauren, thankfully, hasn't abandoned me yet and turns and rubs up against me in a way that feels like sin. I like the way her hip bone feels under the tight knit of her dress and how she presses into me. I like the energy and the heat. I like feeling the floor move and the air vibrate. I love how each song disappears into the next and that quiet moments are few and far between. I really like it when she calls into my ear, "Is there anything you're not good at?"

We stop to quench our thirst and then rush back out to enjoy more of each other. It's well into the night before they start closing down and pushing us out into the pit. I didn't realize how drenched I was until the cold of the open air sent shivers up my body. And I drape my arm around Lauren to keep her warm. She walks with me back to my apartment and in through the door. We crash loudly still laughing and chatting into the living room.

"Didn't realize you'd have company." Zeke shouts his apologies, standing up to leave.

"No, no." Lauren assures him, "You don't have to leave, I'm not staying." she glances at me with a smile, "I just wanted to grab my sweater, from earlier." she snags it from the back of the couch and I follow her back into the hallway.

"Thanks for making me go tonight, it was fun." I admit, my hands still on her hips.

"It's always fun to go with a good dancer." She pats my chest, then leans in and touches her lips carefully to mine. It's like she doesn't want to break me. "I'll see you later, okay?" I watch her stride down the hallway.

"So, what's up?" I ask, turning into face Zeke, who's already sunk down on the couch.

"Shauna." He grumbles.

"What about her?"

"I told her I wanted to like, make us official, and she said she still wants to see other people." he's looking down at his hands and I can tell he's more upset than his tone allows. "So I don't know, I thought you might actually understand."

"Yeah, I think I do." I smile sympathetically, "How about some tea?" I click the burner on and set the kettle, because there's one thing that transcends factions, and that's the power of tea. "Do you mind if I change?"

"Go ahead." He agrees then snickers when I disappear into the bathroom to do so. "I've seen you naked like a million times, you know."

"Shut up." I laugh a little, because he's right and it makes me feel ridiculous in my compulsion to modesty. "Drink your tea." I pour water over some packets and hand him a mug. "So, you want to get serious with Shauna?"

"I don't know, I guess so. I mean, I told her." He shakes his head, "Now she'll think I'm clingy."

"Maybe she'll come around." I don't actually believe that, Dauntless don't usually settle down until they're in their mid-twenties, "You probably just surprised her. I mean, you really love to date."

"Yeah, I use to." He admits, "But since my dad, I don't know it makes life seem short. And if you know what you want, why wait?"

"What if you don't know what you want?" I don't mean to steal the focus, but I could use the advice probably as much as he can.

He's quiet and evaluates, "Then you should be seeing more than one girl, you don't want to send the wrong message." He warns. "Guess we're in opposite situations, eh?"

"Eh?"

"You have a girl you're not sure you like, but she thinks you're exclusive; I like a girl who's not ready to be exclusive."

"She thinks we're exclusive?" This terminology is new to me and probably sounds like another language coming out of my mouth.

"Uh, yeah." He says like it's the most obvious thing.

"Shit."

"Yeah, shit."

"I've got a problem." I admit, "I mean, I like her, but I don't think I like her like that."

"I saw you let her kiss you, and the hand holding - I figured you had to be pretty serious, you know, by your standards."

"I mean, yeah, of course I like that, I like a lot of the things she wants to do. But it's just doesn't sit well with me. It's like I'm taking advantage of her."

"Girls." Zeke sighs, "And sissy-pants abnegation boys." He jibes.

"I'm adjusting." I smirk.

"How far you go?" I keep my mouth shut, "second base?"

"What does that even mean?"

"You, know, feel her up?"

"What's a base?"

"I don't know, it's just a saying." He shrugs off, "So you haven't felt her up yet?" I focus on keeping a neutral face, but he's channeling his inner candor and gleefully shouts, "Mmmhmm, nice little handful!" He squishes the air. "You eat her out yet?"

"Shut up," I groan. "Are you ever going home?"

He's laughing, "Prude." He sips, "I've still got my tea to drink. So, you going to break it off with her?"

"Yeah, looks like it."

"You don't have to."

"Yeah, I do"


	2. Chapter 2: Trust no one

The liquid stank like sweetened feet prevailing over all other scents that dared try to waft freely. Amar roughly pushed the mug into his frozen fingers, right under his nose. It was enough to send him stumbling to the bathroom instead.  
"You're an asshole." Four declared, having heaved up splotches of blood along with the bile.  
"No one made you drink."  
"No one stopped me either."  
"Not your baby sitter." He reminded, leaning in with the cup.  
"Aren't you?" Four glared before retching one last time.  
"So, what do you remember?" Amar handed him a wash cloth,, setting the tea on the counter to cool.  
"That I'm never drinking again."  
"Yeah, I remember you saying that at least five times." Amar smirked, "What I meant was, if you remember your ramblings last night?"  
Four froze, the cool cloth tapped to his neck and eradicating the heat while he contemplated through the pounding in his temple. "Fuck. You." He groaned. He'd been filleted open by Bud's special blend of grain alcohol and fruit juice and Amar's gift of gab.  
"See, more like a therapist than a babysitter." Amar put his arm around him and helped him so he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub. "You know, I have a better chance of helping you when I know the full story."  
"I don't need your help." Four griped, pushing his head as close to his knees as he could.


	3. Chapter 3: Tickle

"I'm all finished here." Four announced, putting the tools back in the bag.

"Here, take her." Shauna holds up a toddler that gazes at him with distrusting expression. He looks back alarmed and hesitating, but his hands go out to grip her under her arms anyways. "She's not a bomb." Shauna scolds at how he holds her out at arm's length, he pulls her in closer. Shauna busies herself with packing the diaper bag in the corner, while tears start to bubble up on the rim of the child's eyes.

"What do I do?" He asks as a whimper starts past her lips accelerating the oncoming panic.

The little body of curls squeals, "Ickle!"

"She wants you to tickle her." Shauna sighs, like it's the most obvious thing.

Four looks between Shauna, occupied, and the increasingly distressed child. "How?"

"Seriously?" Shauna rolls her eyes, "Do it soon before she has a melt down."

Four carefully positions her against him so he can use a freer grip and jiggle her belly. She shrieks and giggles. "Again!" So he does, smiling at her gleeful response. She's like a puzzle that came together easy, but not easy enough to make him feel comfortable.

"See, not so bad." Shauna takes her back and he breaths a little easier. "Didn't you like to be tickled when you were a kid?"

"I don't remember." he shrugged.

"Well, when you have your own, try to remember, they like to be tickled."

He swallowed hard at the thought.


	4. Chapter 4: Amar Outcast

Amar's return had been about as much his choice as when he left. When the government swarmed into the Bureau the weeks following the wipe, they removed him from the security forces under suspicion of conspiring with Tris. Told him he'd be in a desk job or nothing. It was just the push he needed to come home. It wasn't easy. He had to convince George to live with the constant reminder of his sister, and take a heavy dose of truth serum to convince the leadership that he was there for the right reasons. Not, as some whispered, as some spy for the outside. Over all, the mood was jovial, if not slightly confused, when the two of them slid into a small apartment after a thorough greeting by friends and acquaintances.

With the leadership decimated, he thought they might ask him onto the council, but the suspicions persisted beyond the serum. And so he had to settle back into the periphery of his previous position, training programs and maintaining the equipment that went with that. Without Four to help, he'd hoped Lauren would fill the role. And while she'd been assisting occasionally, she'd become uncomfortable with combat training and coddled the members that suffered similarly. And she wouldn't run the simulations, she barely made it through her own. Four coming back was like a light in the tunnel.


	5. Chapter 5: Amar's a pest

**Scene that was omitted from my story "Something New" **

Routines calmed him, stabilized him and made it seem like everything was alright, predictable, normal. But twice doesn't make a pattern. After going through his landscape in the morning, the jolt of adrenaline made him irritable, sullen. Word quickly spread to stay clear while he took it out on the punching bags, moderation wasn't something he was interested in practicing.

Amar watched him with concern, stripped down to a white tank top left over from Milwaukee. He was sweat soaked, so that the black of his tattoo shown through the white. Amar was convinced by the Abnegation hands that Four probably didn't intend on the display. Fortunately, the blood splashed pink across his side was distracting enough to avoid gossip. He pulled up a stool and sat just in Four's peripheral bringing slices of apple up to his mouth ever so often.

"You just going to sit there?" Four spat, hammering into the bag.

"You going to tell me why you can't get past the baby in your landscape?"

"No." He punched again.

"Then I guess I'll have to sit here until you fall over or die of blood loss."

His arms were past falling off. His legs didn't want to shuffle and brace anymore. His neck ached when he let his head bow chin on his chest. He looked at his knuckles, split and bruised. Then at the apple slice Amar pushed through his lips, his stomach rumbling. But he wasn't in the mood to entertain Amar's tactics, he threw his shirt over his shoulder on his way out to his apartment.

"Same time tomorrow?" Amar called after him, amused despite his concern.


	6. Chapter 6: Story Snippets 1

_**Story snippet from my tumblr... let me know if you want to see more posted here - rather than searching tags over there. I'll only post ones I wrote with Something New in mind.**_

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_**SeventhSanctum prompt: Such a interesting time, this time of wars among the gods.**_

The cold metal sliding on his face feels wet, slick, and alive. The shock rocking him out of his bed with flailing arms batting at the snaking, dark coil extended from an outstretched hand. The laughter erupts, scarring his ears as he takes it in full.

"What's the matter, afraid of belts?" Eric taunts him, letting the buckle jingle.

He charges him, arms snapping out to contact Eric's arms and rams him into the wall. The action wasn't without recoil, Eric's hands bouncing against his torso without the room necessary to mount a defense. Eric doesn't drop the toothy grin until knuckles peel his lips across them and blood slurps into his spit. With both of them off balance, retaliation isn't easy, but the weeks of training has helped perfect their reactions.

Blows rain back prodding them across the squeaking floors while the other boys watch and marvel. There's differences in form and technique, but no one wagered on a winner.

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"Just… Don't leave." He forced out, struggling with what he actually wanted to say. He wanted to tell her he forgave her, that he'd never hurt her, that he'd never leave her again, but all three felt too close to lies to squeeze past his lips. "What ever this is, I want it." He declared instead.

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Love isn't the words or the longing look just before ruffling up the hem of a shirt. Love isn't the glittery presents or the dinners spent wooing. Love isn't alive in the vows lost in the wind so many years ago.

Love is a man chocking down the driest accident ever inflicted on a pork chop and saying, "Thank You."


	7. Chapter 7: Story Snippets 2

**Three more snippets from my Tumblr... If you haven't figured it out already - I have a story called "Something New" it's rated M, so it's not going to show up in the default filters. Click my name, start reading, tell me what you think. - Thanks**

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Reluctantly, she buttoned up her coat to walk through the square and back to her apartment. If she used her imagination, the added warmth felt a little like being held and heated by him. While she wanted to revel in it, to hug herself tightly and imagine her arms to be his, the further from the moment, the more confused she became.

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If he would just relax, let his eyes close; he could have been asleep in seconds if it weren't for the accelerating thrum of his heart every time he contemplated his last nightmare. He convinces himself that exhaustion kept him from remembering, from waking up, maybe even from having them all together. He propped himself up with an elbow shifting side to side on the hard-seated kitchen chair to relieve a little of the ache the hours of stillness has attached to the position. He stated an empty promise to himself: he'll open his eyes at the count of three.

One…. two….

Three.

Daylight had leaked across the floor and was striped across his face. The sun blared onto his unprotected retina. He squirmed, stretched and become aware. The pungent fumes of coffee, a now-cold cup filled by the keyboard and a cold egg sandwich by the mouse. Success.

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He lied to himself and said it wasn't because he didn't trust her. But seeing her laughing, leaned in so her ear was perched right next to lips that refused to shout so she could hear them, it flipped a switch.

He assumed his motions were casual, slow and steady, but anyone paying attention would have seen the focused urgency. He fit himself in the small circle, just to her right. The conversation was innocuous enough, as Derrick ran through a summary of what made it to the store room. But the work related conversation wasn't enough to keep him from being eyed and evaluated, like competition, an intruder. He arched an eye brow and softly drug the back of two fingers down her spine, fitted them into back of her jeans to hang casually. Relishing in the annoyance when she leaned into him, balancing against him, not even aware that she'd been claimed.


	8. Chapter 8: Story Snippets 3

**More Snippets from the Tumblr which were written with Something New in mind.**

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Sometimes it helps to get lost in noise. Let the thoughts weave into the chords of conversation, the staccato chop of heels on concrete. Let concerns meld into the passing phrase and evaporate in the dissonance. Allow the elevation of a small child's gleeful shriek settle between the heavy bones and delicate cartilage.

When all human sounds are silenced, when the wind overwhelms each sense, all there is is thought, breath, heart beat, and life impinged only by itself. A void left behind to ache, though all at once be filled from inside.

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She can't breath, her chest feels so heavy. But the decision isn't a surprise. If she's honest, she knew it all along. This way, it's at least not her, it's them.

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Long days don't always feel justified. Even though she's satisfied and content, she questions the value of spending the day playing instead of contributing. Like the only reason to breath is to serve others, that was what her parents wanted for her, raised her to do. Which is why so many selfish hours feel shameful, greedy.  
She'd do it again in a heart beat.


	9. Chapter 9: Story Snippets 4

**Tumblr dump... Story Snippets**

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She'd started something he wouldn't stop, his hands on her sides, his lips pulling hers. She grabbed his cheeks and held him still, so she could explore how tender he could be. She let a hand slide into his hair and grazed her nails against his scalp accelerating his pace from her lips down to her neck. One hand peeled up her back under her shirt, the other picking up her thigh and setting her on the edge of the bed. She shimmied back. He crawled up next to her.

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While he was examining each option on the table, he registered the lack of feeling in his legs. A disconnection between his thoughts and every nerve ending in his body all the way down to his toes. He had a sudden craving for the tangibles of his landscape, even the feel of sweat sliding down his spine more welcome than the numbness.

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See **Omissions of seduction - M Rated Snippets -** For what use to be here.


	10. Chapter 10: Story Snippets 5

**Obviously, some of this lead to nothing... but snippets I wrote when thinking about Something New all the same.**

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He woke up when the springs of the mattress shifted. The warmth of the covers disappearing quickly after her. He watched her shimmy into some clothing and out to the bathroom. He rolled onto his back, peeling back the comforter to keep himself from falling asleep, but he was already lucidly dreaming when she came back in.

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When he's running its like there's magic in his legs. A layer of vapor guards his feet and they never touch the ground. Of course, if that were true, she wouldn't be watching after him wishing someone else had volunteered. Or that the wind would blow away the foot prints that trailed after him.

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I hear it before I can understand it. The loud yelps and guttural screams terrifying in volume but not laced with pain. A wall muffles the words, if there are any, but the closer I come to the door, the easier it is to make out multiple sources. There's a smallness that constrains the shrill cry. Its youthful and raw, a voice barely dropped into adulthood. The other is baritone and staccato, jabbering out syllables quickly and forcefully.

I'm just outside, but all the possibilities of what await inside make me think twice about pressing the button.


	11. Chapter 11: Story Snippets 6

From the tumblr...

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While most nights he's holding her, there are nights like this one where she ends up cradling him back to sleep. In the best of cases, it's after they've ground out their demons against each other's skin. In the worst, it's after his demons have ground his nerves down to silt with vivid nightmares. In either case, she counts his breaths until they're soft and even, cards her fingers against his temple, and presses out the worries in his neck. It's through trial and error that she's developed a belief that without all three, they'll be starting the process over in a few hours.

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His legs were spaghetti, he almost missed the step onto the train his toe catching by an inch. The near miss made his heart leap, adrenaline coursed through him as he hung out over the gravel. The passengers from Amity looked disapprovingly as he leaned out and let the wind in. But it helped him wake up and gather his resolve to be civil. Even more, it helped him allow himself to feel excited about seeing her.

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He misunderstood the looks they gave when he passed. Each glance was accusatory. Every nod of the head dismissive. Tilts of their chins put him on the defensive, prepared for a challenge. He swore his back was on fire from the focused power of so many eyes. When he finally made it up to the front, hauled up to stand among the leadership, he expected cat calls and heckles. So he braced, and the noise nearly knocked him over for the sheer joy and praise they all stamped into the ground and rattled through the air. Surprise displaced doubt, he was home.


	12. Chapter 12: Story Snippets 7

**These were written when exploring thoughts about Zeke and Shauna's relationship.**

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It had been long enough that he helped himself out more than twice. And so long that each attempt at satisfaction barely scraped the edge. When she moans its almost enough for him to forget the word control. If it weren't for the physical therapist teaching him how to help her, he would have dared and initiated full groping contact.

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Today is all about baking. He carries her burdens and picks her up when she falls. He massages her limbs and holds her when she cries. He has been at every event, appointment, and in every waiting room. If its possible, she'll pour gratitude from the sugar, spoon thankfulness out of flour, and sprinkle her devotion in the pinches of salt, baking soda and nutmeg. Even if she can say it over and over, baking is the last tool she has to show him.

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Disbelief. A small hole in and no hole out. So little blood and less pain than anyone could imagine. It's like a bee sting that shifted the world off it's axis. She's sore an stiff, inconsolable at times and angry at others. She doesn't blame anyone, not really, just hates the universe in one breath and thanks it for living in the other.

She sees things differently, now. Sees more beauty in the tired wrinkles of her mother's eyes and in the stern pucker of her father's lips. There's something secretive and hidden behind Lynn's eyes that's left unguarded by her own guilt.

Zeke has never seemed stronger to her. He pulls her up out of bed in one motion, like she weighs nothing but also like she's as precious as life itself. He's the only one that makes jokes around her, calls her short-stalk. He's who she needs. He doesn't treat her like she isn't Shauna. Like she's woken up missing more than just sensations.


	13. Chapter 13: Story Snippets 8

**Story Snippets from the Tumblr... enjoy.**

Candor cells, Erudite cells, closets in Abnegation and finally the holding pen in Dauntless. Four examined the rusted spot welds where the bars were haphazardly connected. He wondered absently if Amity had cells, or if they just locked people in the stalls with the horses. The mattress smelled like vomit, the floor around the toilet was plastered with the dried piss of the last weekend's drunk and disorderly. Even when his hands arched and swelled, the discomforts of his situation couldn't deter him from a peaceful sleep.

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Everything from her smile on the train to cradling her along the bumpy route matched his idea of a perfect day. One that shouldn't be spoiled by restraint. He held her tighter when her back curled and arched against his chest. Her hand gripped his shoulder, holding him, then slipped up his neck and found his jaw, fingers hooked in his hair. He indulged fully in a series of fantasies, each one acted out on a new inch of exposed skin, feeling the vibration of a moan or a word lost before it hit his ears. Her arm snaked behind him and grabbed at his back like she was anchoring herself to him.

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Patience is a virtue that never blessed him. He could bide his time, strategize, shut up when he had to. But actually being patient. The curious sniffs and darting explorations drove him crazy. But no matter what he said or how he said it, he had no control over when she'd proclaim the exact right rock or the perfect stump. He learned the hard way that being patient was better than stepping in a wet puddle first thing in the morning. Getting a puppy was changing him.


	14. Chapter 14: Story Snippets 9

**You get 4 today, since the third made it into Chapter 19 almost word for word. As a note, just because I write a snippet, doesn't mean it gets included in the story. It's just an idea.**

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The world isn't full of chocolate and wine-sauce. Sometimes its just dry ham sandwiches and silence. Lately, if she's lucky, its the sort of silence that means he's locked in his own head. There's a difference to tired thoughts about laundry and alarm clocks and the stewing rage of frustration and disappointment. Tonight she bites through the layers like the click of her teeth could ignite his fuse.

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A quiet room tolerates little dissention. Even hushed whispers said in placid tones could rip over the bobbing heads. So he gave up on squelching the broadcast of his argument. There's no point to an effort that will never meet the bar of silence. Each face whipped in his direction. Some were shocked and frozen that way, others distilled into admonishment, neither dissuaded him from his verbal assault on his wilting target.

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She could tell when he registered her in the crowd. His eyes popped open a little wider and his chin nudged up, shoulders rolled back. He excused himself carefully, and she pushed back out to meet him on the outside edge. He kept his arms crossed, holding his elbows.

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She thought that dogs were supposed to be on the pile of old shirts in the corner. The cold nose that cuddled into her side indicated otherwise. At least it explained why the sheets were always clean and the comforter freshly laundered. The biggest hint at his usual arrangement was the sleepy motion of his hand which had found the crest between her ears.  
"There's a dog in your bed." She grumbled.  
"Shhhh, you must be dreaming. Dogs aren't allowed in bed." He mumbled but continued the motion undeterred.


	15. Chapter 15: Story Snippets 10

**Your Story Snippet Mash up of the day... **Read number two a couple times - just do it. It's one of my favorites.

And feel free to join me on Tumblr (Inopinion), where snippets are posted whenever the muse strikes me - especially during long meetings, mindless training sessions, and, in general, when I don't want to get up in the morning.

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She's on his mind so much that the drag of the morning's meetings doesn't phase him. He misses the trolling from Charles that would usually set him off. He even let slide the catty bickering he usually didn't tolerate. By lunch, the most persistent question was if he felt alright.

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A switch in his brain flipped – no, it wasn't that sudden. Two sides fought a war with his neurons. One side fueled and equipped by his pride, conscience, and self respect. The other by his under expressed hormones that demanded a ceasefire so he could focus on the clasp of her bra. With one side emboldened by the press of her tongue to the gully between his muscle and his Adam's apple, the rational, reserved thoughts were snuffed out. Now he was in a game of chicken between her touches and his, only neither was afraid anymore.

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What did it mean to deserve something? Was there such a thing as entitlement? Did one event or even a lifetime of events ever really justify the feeling of being slighted when a goal wasn't granted. No, he was pretty sure no one ever deserved - they could earn, but not deserve. Something he'd do better remembering in the future.


	16. Chapter 16: Watching a Machine

**Since I failed to but an update up for Something New today... eat this omitted scene as your meager substitute.**

**If you haven't read Something New - click my name, select it from my stories, give it a read and give me a review.**

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Four's hand ached with the added blood from being thrown up and down with each pump of his legs, but he grimaced through it.

Rafael, on the other hand was winded, panting on the side having been cajoled into attempting a work out he wasn't prepared to try. It wasn't dissimilar to how he watched Four's punishing regime in Milwaukee, and at least he wasn't frozen to the ground. Watching Four rush back and forth, tagging lines drawn on the ground with each direction change was like watching a machine progress through a pattern. Until his legs gave out and he was belly down sliding on the surface, heaving for air.

"You wouldn't have to work that hard." Amar took a seat on a bucket next to him so he could watch and pull out his stack of folders.

"What do you mean?"

"If you joined Dauntless, we have a minimum standard and that's not it." He pointed as Four was pushing himself up with a groan and then fell into fast rhythmic push ups. "What he does is above and beyond."

"Then why does he do it?"

"He's not good at moderation."

"Doesn't seem healthy."

"For him, it's better than the alternative." Amar commented, cryptically. "You know, if you're going to be here, you might as well try look like you're keeping up." He suggested, dismissing him back to join Four in much slower push ups and started to take notes on the potential initiate.


	17. Chapter 17: Business between friends

**Okay, how about two omitted scenes? This doesn't quite fit with where the story ended up. It seems I always end up cutting Amar out of the story. Something New update should fall between the 15th and the 18th of May.**

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Harrison was still in charge of the facility in addition to his duties on the council, and he was swamped. Six traitors and two dead during the battle with Erudite had cleared out his staff down to just four members and a lot of destruction to recover from. While he wouldn't admit it, Four was the only hope of getting the computer system back on line. But that wasn't allowed, not until he passed the serums and the simulations and rejoined properly.

"He's emaciated." Harrison groused.

"Big word, Harry." Amar teased.

"What about his hand?" He moaned, then more tersely, "Jesus, Amar, is he going to pass? Does he even want to?" He was exhausted, selfishly wanting just a little room to breath, to catch up. It was similar to Amar's motivation which is why they're meeting regularly about Four like the other shared resources between training and facilities.

"I don't know. I've got a bit of a plan."

"Which is?" He leans forward.

"I don't want to take your time."

"No, what is it? And can I help?"

Amar evaluated and then shrugged, "With Four, getting him motivated is pretty simple. I just have to make him feel like I doubt him. Just tear him down over and over. Make him feel like I don't have any faith in him. But it's got to be a gentle touch, because he needs praise, too, or he'll fly off the rails."

"I didn't remember this guy being such a headache."

"You didn't see him in initiation. But you could help, if you got him back into the facilities group. Give him something he's good at, something he can do well over and over. You play good cop, I'll play bad cop."

"You know I can't do that." He whined and stretched his hands up over his head.

"Keep him out of the control room, if you have to." Amar conceded, "but let him install bookshelves or wash windows, those skylights could use a cleaning. Just help me out here. I need you there giving him a reason to stick with it. Make him feel like he belongs here."

"I'll try." He agreed. "How close are the wipes to getting through initiation?"

"Oh, we're a long ways off." Amar sighed. "They're like five year-olds just asking, "Why?" all the time, like they're the damned Erudites. And we saw what shit soldiers they made."

"We could invite in the factionless."

"Shut your face." Amar spat. "Can't trust them further than you can throw them. They're much better off in Amity, let them be their problem."

"You know, he's tied up in the factionless, right? I mean, he's working for Johanna for them." Harrison points out. "What's the chances that he even stays?"

"Trust me, he wouldn't go through a sim if he wasn't committed."

"How do you watch those things all day?" Harrison says off-hand.

"I try not to, I take a lot of breaks, and then I train a jerk with four fears to do it for me." He laughed, griping. "But some tiny girl broke him."

"Any chance she's coming back?" He has to ask, not because he wants her to, but because she's frightening, dangerous, unexplained.

"Yeah, always a chance. If it means being with him, I think she might."

"Shit."

"Come on, you let me back." Amar reminded, "And she saved Dauntless, twice. I think you'd like her on your side. There's a lot of political capital between her and the members."

"She doesn't know what loyalty means." He huffed. "Switching sides, betraying our leadership."

"Factionless is better than a member, a first-in-class member?" He pointedly questioned, feeling a little protective, "What's your beef with Tris?"

"Tori didn't trust her."

"Let the ghosts rule the present. Great idea."

"Let you back in." Harrison smugly smiled.

"I'm guessing that means we're done with the real business?" He started to collect together his progress charts and folders for each member in drills and each initiate.

"One more thing." He shuffles his own papers uncomfortably. "Um, ah, George asked for another extension. Says they aren't done retraining out there."

It struck harder than a blow to the gut, Amar took a breath and a long nod to gather his composure, "How long?"

"Two more weeks." Amar nodded, crestfallen, "I can deny it."

"No, no. If he needs more time."

"I ah, don't really know what to say, but I'm sorry. Things are rough for everyone."

"Is that it?"

"Yeah." He dismissed him, letting him walk out and back down to the equipment room to clean the guns because the constant chatter and hum of the meat heads outside that door were preferable to the cold silence waiting within his apartment.


	18. Chapter 18: Story Snippets 11

**Three more from the tumblr: inopinion, link in my profile.**

* * *

She found her sense of self in the doubtful moments. When her fingers ached and her arms shook. Just when she was ready to consider dropping, she'd convince herself once more. Once more up. Once more past who she was a moment ago and into who she could be, would be, if she kept pushing for one more.

* * *

Creativity is the bedfellow of not only idle hands, but constrained ones as well. Since the new normal settled into just normal, there was one key piece missing: passion. The not so distant past had rubbed every surface in his apartment with their bodies, some places outside, too. Each flirt a dare usually answered. But this normal has too much pain for libidos. Her's is worn inside and out and his with each of her frustrated or grimacing tears. But tonight he has an idea, a plan and she'll humor him half on hope that this time they find a little bit of the old normal that they can keep.

* * *

There are a thousand combinations of faces and body language, intonation and phrases that can convey disappointment. Lips pulled down and to the side, or eyebrows that furrow, little hums of discontent. Sixteen years of hard training smashed the usual mask of humanity off his face leaving a mirage of clues for her to piece together, all while silently screaming, "Am I enough?"


	19. Chapter 19: Story Snippets 12

**Story snippets from the tumblr, come follow me, get updates on writing, ask questions - what ever... link in my profile**

* * *

Its not like her to wake up so simply. No panic or adrenaline fueled sweats or yelps of protest or protection. Just a nagging feeling aching between her thighs. Even if she's by herself, she flushes red and tacitly snuck her hand under her waistband to meld her fantasy into her dream.

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* * *

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Stalemate. Two game players staring at each other or at nothing. She won't talk, not when her first question lingers unanswered. He won't answer what she has no right to ask. But she holds the sheet of paper that becomes his progress report, its the only card and its in her hand. He knows its stupid to be this stubborn, but it doesn't mean he'll budge.

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* * *

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The path to the overstuffed, uncomfortable couch in the center of Candor could be simplified into three words: anger management issues. This time, Johanna says the last time, he put a hole in a wall. Now a smiling woman in white was reviewing his form and giving pointed glances at his hard façade.


	20. Chapter 20: if Tris was less damaged

Here's the context of this unused scene...

**Point in story:** Tris restarts initiation and they have a decent time at Amar's Sunday dinner. They're both a little drunk and she misses the train. She decides to stay with Tobias, probably at someone else's suggestion. This is MUCH earlier in the story than where the dinner scene ended up, when Four's still very thin, and not very confident about himself. Tris still has condoms in her bag.

**Why it didn't get used:** It ignored the complexities of Tris's rape, and Harrison's pestering. Also, I wrote the Amity scene which I liked much better as a way of setting Harrison off and letting them get innocently physical. And, honestly, it's much more mature of an interaction than these two are capable of. And the following thoughts about Tris and Christina's relationship didn't really match well with what I wanted.

**What came after:** They sleep together, like just sleep, and everyone assumes more happened, which they find embarrassing, and gets Four in further trouble with Harrison as the rumors swirl. When Christina pesters Tris into admitting nothing happens, she also inadvertently makes Tris feel like Four must not be attracted to her.

Please forgive the typos, it's pretty much unedited and requires some flexibility and forgiveness, especially for the timeline disconnect.

* * *

Delay tactics over, Tobias and Tris walked side by side silently in the hallway. He could tell she was tired, maybe a little tipsy, matching his own feelings of exhaustion. It had been months since that night on the couch, months since he'd fell asleep with her cuddled up against him. Even though it had only been weeks since the shop girl, he was struggling to keep those urges in the periphery.

He glanced at her, short and small, a healthy flush from the alcohol coloring her cheeks, and it only encouraged those thoughts to come forward. His hand went out and he clumsily pushed his fingers through hers and smiled with a blush when she looked up at him. Then it occurred to him, sex meant getting naked which in turn would put him on display. While he'd put on the first ten pounds quickly, the last ten to get into a healthy status was proving more difficult. Tris had fallen for her instructor: big, brave, strong. Four knew she'd see right through any bravado, see how he'd become a ghost: thin, weak, cowardly. It was exactly the right set of thoughts to smash any sense of urgency in getting intimate.

He dropped her hand at the door and turned the key, allowing her to step in first. He took her coat and bag, stepped out of his shoes and left her to deal with her own determined to busy himself.

"Want some tea? Water?"

"No, I'm okay." He put the kettle on, she wiped her palms on her thighs, and he wondered if she was as nervous as he was. She eyed his small stack of books, mainly manuals and technical guides, it struck him that she was avoiding sitting down.

"Are you sore?"

"What?"

"Your legs, are you sore?" He himself was feeling like he had bone bruises in the balls of each foot and pure acid in his triceps and forearms. He masochistically liked the sting in his palm as he pinched the heel of his right hand.

"Yeah, a bit." She stretched a little. "I'm sure it'll be worse tomorrow." She flipped open a little blue book, skimming through the introduction to electrical circuits and wiring. "Do you mind if I read this?" She asked as she sat down at the table and pulled her legs up to sit cross-legged.

"Sure, go ahead." He found it surprisingly hard not to let the annoyance come out. She had no reason to read it. She wasn't going to be installing lighting or switches, in a different life, she could have been wearing blue.

"Here." He pulled out the little pot of ointment from the refrigerator. "It can really help." He moved behind her and pulled her hair to the side, dabbing a little bit of the mint paste onto her neck and shoulder, pressing into the soft tissues made hard by the strain of training. She let out a little gasp that took his mind to a completely different place.

He let his thumbs shift under the collar of her shirt, pressing down between her right shoulder blade until a definitive knot caught his attention. He pressed around the edges, letting the oils of the paste lubricate while he deepened his press. She rolled her neck to the side, set the book onto the table, her arms dropped loose. He could see her eyes barely open, mouth parted, her jaw sliding back so her teeth folded her lower lip— he stopped, stepping away to tend to the whistling of the kettle and thinking of the first time he watched a domestic go down on the monitors, an effective control, for a moment.

"Sit, let me." She smiled, patting the table next to her. He clutched the mug, the heat almost enough to burn him, enough to distract him, and sat on the chair next to her, facing her. She took the ointment, dabbed her fingers and grabbed his right hand. He swallowed hard, watching her look at the scar, obviously trying not to stare, not to focus on it, but failing to conceal her curiosity. Her fingers pressed into the muscles of his forearm, pulling along the tendons and rocking the muscles back and forth over each other. It felt like heaven caught on fire with the ebbing of pain and pleasure.

Tris ached from the center of her spine through the edges of her hips when he licked his lips, staring at her with a touch of agony in the corners of his eyes. Smoothly transitioning to straddle his legs, her hands found their way up to his biceps and circled his arm around her waist, turning him into a panting statue, too focused on controlling himself to move.

The drag of her ear on the side of his neck when she pecked his collarbone broke what little resolve had held him still. Tobias' hands clamped onto her hips to hold her when his mouth sucked the skin of her neck and pinched into kisses. He pulled her tight against him, hip to hip. It was the start of a trail that swiftly landed her pinned under him on his bed, her legs gripping him and his hands exploring the layers of her shirts.

Tris is the first to start pulling clothing, arresting Tobias in mid grasp of her breast. Had he been paying attention, he could have at least hit the lights on the way over, something to keep a little dignity, but he hadn't. She stared back at him, concerned. He was staring back at her dumbly, dazed and hesitant.

"What?" She brushes his hand off her chest, pulling away from him, examining herself the best she could see. "What I do?" She asked.

"Um, nothing." He couldn't think straight, "I just, got, um distracted." When an opportunity presents itself, "I don't have any condoms." He said, faking as bashful a face as he could.

"Oh, um, you want to?"

"Yeah, well. Of course." He grinned, crisis avoided, "I mean, if you do. But, not like taking risks or anything." He measured his tone, to sound as adult as he could about it.

"Oh, I have some, in my bag." She smiled, scooting to the edge and then tip-toeing across the room to retrieve them. His heart fluttered a little in his chest, it seemed unavoidable, all that was left was deciding what reaction would be worse: laughing, being disgusted, disappointed.

"What's wrong?" She approached slowly, her arms carefully coming together to hold herself. All of her doubts racing through her own mind at how vast the distance felt between two moments so close together. "I mean, you don't have to be nice. If you don't want to, that's fine." She said it even though it was anything but, "I can stay with Amar, probably." She even started to turn, Tobias unresponsive, frozen in indecision.

"Wait, it's not…" He'd successfully stopped her, turned her towards him, but saying what he needed to say wouldn't happen with her eyes on him. So he took a breath, sat on the edge, closed his eyes and leaned his forehead onto his hands. If he opened his eyes, all he'd see was the floor boards. "It's not you." She sighed with disbelief, "I mean, it is you, but not you." He heard a choked sniffle, "I don't want to disappoint you." He rushed out, not wanting to make her cry.

Silence. He wasn't brave enough to look up, but he couldn't think of what else to say. Then footsteps, careful and slow, drawing up next to him, the weight of her body sinking the mattress beside him.

"How could you ever disappoint me?" She laid her head on his back, her arm around his waist and playing with the pocket on his pants.

"I'm not who you met. I'm different, weak." He didn't add the rest.

"Rough around the edges, maybe, but definitely not weak." She corrected, he sighed, unbelieving, "You're the strongest person I know. I'm definitely dating up." She nudged him, warming him up a little, "But if you want to wait, to… you know, do that, until we have some time between us, I get that."

"We shouldn't rush." He stated slowly letting his head come up, feeling her tighten her grip around him.


	21. Chapter 21: Story Snippets 13

**Four snippets for you...**

**.**

**.**

She held the box labeled 12-45a. She came to have the box only because it wasn't claimed. Either no one survived to claim it or the sentimental nature of keep sakes had been crushed from them by her faction of birth. They aren't the rings worn by her parents, she couldn't find those, or anything related to their bodies. But they would have had ones exactly like them, somehow that was close enough.

.

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Doubt, with a capital D. She laced the valves of her heart with it, each thud pumping it into every ounce of blood and tissue. She perched nervously. She watched him absently wield the blade as if it was a spoon, nearly missing his finger tips with each pass. The thunk, thunk, thunk! that pointed his statements and filled the silence. Then the shhhhzzzz took over the airwaves. Shortly after came the reassuring smell of slowly cooking chicken like an antidote to the poison. Maybe he could cook.

.

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He covers his body with his arms, hugging himself inside the layers of his jacket. He feels cold, all the insulating ideas that wrapped him were lost in the hour session. Now he's bare and raw and reflective. He's tied up in his head not processing his surroundings until one face finds his. It feels like getting caught, too flustering to formulate why she was there at all. He didn't feel cold anymore, instead flushed with blood and adrenaline enough to propel him psst with out a word.

.

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He can't be alone with her. He knows the pieces inside of him are still too of kilter. He'd either lose it in rage or lust and neither match what he wants for the future. She tries every thing to thwart his carefully planned evenings. It worries him, she's smarter than he is and eventually the door will shut and they'll be entirely on their own and she'll be facing his demons, trapped, and not knowing how close to the surface they lurk.

.


	22. Chapter 22: Story Snippets 14

**More snippets migrating from the Tumblr... and holy hell, I was obviously obsessing on a theme at the time these were written...**

* * *

She struggles. He purses his lips and watches tentative. She thrashes and kicks then calms and pants to build up to the next burst of effort. Everything in him wants to throw off her assailant, save her from the suffering. But struggle and fight is simultaneously nerve wracking and, embarrassingly, turning him on. Like a good instructor, he let's her learn the lesson. Like any other teen boy watching the two girls on the mat, he'll be thinking about this latter.

* * *

The gentle pinch of her lips gripping onto his was as electric as he remembered. Tobias had convinced himself that his memories were false, that no kiss could ever feel like it both gave and took life at the same time. But it was every bit as pungent.  
The pause and purse of their tentative rhythm made his chest ache for something less chaste, another way to claim her as his. Some way to remind her that she belonged with him. But he kept his hand on her neck and around her shoulder fixing her into his embrace only stopping to stifle the spread of her hands under his shirt.

* * *

He held her face in his hands and when she smiled, he leaned down and let his lips connect. The pressure and slide of his lips against hers was like watercolors, one shade bleeding into the next, fluid until muddled in the middle. Her hands were pressing on his stomach, holding onto his shirt and he regretted needing to breath.

* * *

Is it possible that kissing is more fun when its not allowed? They've been sneaking around steeling moments in the shadows or behind doors. Pushing him one lick at a time until he cant control his thoughts. When she bats his hands away he playfully shoves her towards the train.


	23. Chapter 23: Story Snippets 15

**TUMBLR DUMP...**

* * *

He smells like ash and gun metal. There is a fine grit coating his skin. Nothing is left of his hard defences, he's a shaking tangle of limbs cleaving to her tightly. She asks but he won't answer. In the end all she gets is agreement to let her take care of him which she does with careful hands and decerning eyes. His jaw never stops quivering and neither do his hands.

* * *

He has a sudden moment of panic… What if its all the bread what if none of it is him? What will she think when this wears off and she's living with a monster?

* * *

It was a barely kept secret, his favorite thing to do was roll up under the covers and sleep. Better than cards. Better than shooting. Better than drinking or beating it out in the shower. Sleep brought dreams of more and better… Sleep brought images of her , and before her, it brought fodder for the shower. Now, sleep forgets to bring its presents, and picked up a little Hell to share.

* * *

He keeps telling himself not to be jealous, that there's no reason. But watching affection between them, innocent and innocuous as it probably is, makes his blood boil. Touches like that - on her back, her arm, his fingers splayed out between her shoulder blades as they walk - they mean nothing here, but everything to him. What's worse, even the slightest flick of his finger against her hand could have them both out on the street because no touch is casual for him.


	24. Chapter 24: training with Four

**Background: **Four was going to be an absolute asshole to Tris between Harrison coming down on them and her passing the loyalty test. Why? Because he's still angry and hurt, and he has daily reminders due to the lack of functionality in his hand. It's a little bit of misplaced anger combined with the fact that they can't have a real relationship to sort it out. This would be somewhat but not entirely relieved by her passing the loyalty test and getting one step closer to back into Dauntless.

**Why unused: **I wanted to soften Four a little to stay true to the 'moth and the light' analogy Amar used, that he gets sucked in quick and almost to a fault. So being a complete prick about it didn't make sense if he's going to let her slide without requiring explanation.

Unedited and no beta on these unused scenes.

* * *

Training with Tobias was harder than being trained by Four. Tris' instinct was to lock step, keep pace, carry on and keep up. In initiation, her comparison was to other transfers that were as ill suited to the exercises as herself. Tobias had to slow himself up, trot next to her, try to prod her on before he'd eventually give up and sprint ahead.

Watching him in his routines was almost as exhausting as following his directions. She understood why he was ranked first in his initiation. He was precise, fast, driven, and stubborn. She also understood better why he was given a wide birth in the hallways. His temper bubbled just below the repetitions. And he definitely lied about being nicer.

The frustration of not being the best — not being as capable as he use to be — made him quick to burst. When his hand ached from push ups or stung like a fresh wound on the punching bag, he immediately cursed her. It made him punch harder, run longer, push more but it never made him feel any less irritated at what had happened to him because of her. Any day but landscape days, he could hold it in check. He only did his sim practice on days she wasn't training.

On landscape days, it was more than just the punching bags that got in his way. He tongue lash kids for lazing around the drinking fountain. He threw hits harder when sparring than he should have. He was running out of people willing to take his abuse.

When he was sweat slicked and shaking, avoiding Amar's glance as he exited, the last face he though he'd see was Tris'. But she was waiting for him at the entrance to the training room.

"Hey, I finished work early. Thought I'd get in extra reps." She tried a smile. In reality, she was desperate to gain some approval from him. He'd been less and less satisfied with her, more degrading, more demanding, and she thought a little extra effort might turn him back in her favor.

He looked at her, wide-eyed and a little crazed. "Sync up with Amar and the wipes." He stated, heading into the locker room without a second glance.

She did as she was told, joining in with Amar's training group for combat exercises. She kept a side eye on Tobias as he moved through the facility griping, critiquing, and scolding. Despite being with Amar, even Tris wasn't immune, getting harsh-barked orders and chastising encouragement for her failing effort against a much larger man.

For Tris seeing the rigid and absolute standard Tobias pushed himself toward could actually make a shock of apprehension course through her. She'd cringe when he lost traction or his grip failed him, each slip never warranted his reaction. His face would dart away from the onlooking gaze of the other members. While each person seemed to think nothing of his mistakes, he treated their disinterested looks like judgments.

She hadn't yet gotten in his way during one of his many stomping sessions, and she didn't plan on intervening. She'd seen him angry in Christina's apartment, like a caged animal on his way out; seeing him frustrated with himself was like watching an animal in a trap tear its own arm off.

Only when he was showered and tattered did it seem to leave him. Only when they were in the quiet mumbles of just him and her, was he even happy to see her, but never offering a smile. They'd stood outside, waiting for the train, his arms clutched around his center. Like usual, he said nothing at first, but mumbled an apology for how he snapped just before the train arrived.

The first week, he would casually direct her around with his hand on the small of her back or a tap on her harm. The small little ways she knew he only used to touch her. But the second, he met her at the entrance and silently walked her through the halls, always in front of her. The little touches gone, the small smiles replaced by focused eyes. She assumed he was keeping his distance to save himself any pain if she quit.

But when she showed up on the third Monday, again, to train, he was just as distant as he was on the following Friday and four weeks in, when they stood silently by the train tracks, he didn't even tell her he passed his landscape and regained his membership. She heard it from Zeke earlier.

"So, congratulations." She tried, smiling and holding out her hand for a Dauntless handshake. A handshake seemed innocuous, but he just stared at her palm and thanked her quietly.

"I do the loyalty check this week." She informed him.

"I know." He said simply.

"Okay." She gave up, stepping away to get on the train feeling defeated. With some distance between them, she turned her focus to Christina who would be waiting in the city center.


	25. Chapter 25: Zeke's Dare

Deleted scene... well, alternate scene..

Why not used: Are you kidding me? You all launched a bit of rage at what little bit got left in between these two... But more seriously, Tris wouldn't be emotionally or mentally ready for this at this point in the story.

Where this fits: In Chapter 26, during the game of dare instead of Tris doing the dare she did (no spoilers), Zeke would have gotten this dare...

No betas for omitted scenes, so sorry about the typos.

* * *

(Camping game, alcohol, dare)

"Zeke, Zeke, Zeke… Kiss Tris." He spat, arching a challenging eyebrow.

"The fuck?" Zeke responded.

"You scared?"

"No. She's with my best friend." Zeke laughed, "Be serious, pick something else."

"Four isn't here." He challenged

"Come on, it's just a kiss." Another guy jeered.

Then this chorus of "chicken" and "pansy" and a few thrown pebbles at Zeke's direction.

"It's okay." Tris was red and blushing, turning to him quietly. "It's just a kiss. Two seconds."

Zeke swallowed hard, contemplated the last fight he and Four had — over nothing — and the bruises that lasted weeks. But it was just a kiss, one kiss, a few seconds. Nothing. It meant nothing. Although a little ache passed through him as he lied to himself.

Tris stood across from him, sending chastising and reproachful glances at the obnoxious taunts. She put her hand hesitantly out onto his shoulder, he leaned in, covering her cheek and neck with his rough calloused fingers.

His hands were smaller, but not less powerful or strong. He wasn't as gentle or as careful with her, seemingly to giving her more credit. Even though neither of them felt right about it, the intensity tugged at the tension between them. Like diving into a cold pool, he pulled her to him and touched their lips letting his practiced hands meander down from her chin across her shoulders and, sending chills with each finger tip, down her spine. In the howl of the crowd, they had silence between them before he roughly pushed at her hips and split them apart.


	26. Chapter 26: Original CH9

**Original CH9 (after Tris and Matthew, after Four's finger, before they collide at the Bureau)**

**Skipped because... I didn't like it. I was writing the path to her ending up at the Bureau at the same time as Four and it's much easier to just say the bullet moved. It also was a little telenovela with all the _OMG PREGNANT?_ so I didn't complete the chapter. And let's face it. It's kind of a filler.**

**No betas for omitted scenes.**

* * *

Tris trudged through several inches of snow hoping for relief at her monthly appointment at the start of February. She'd been stuck with a fever and painful cough for over a week. She'd blamed the cold and the viruses spreading throughout the factionless equally, but it didn't pass in a few days. It was intensifying. Her inability to breath had limited the durations of her trips. She needed to keep to the train schedule if she couldn't walk on her own. This type of weakness was always the most frustrating to her.

Her legs bobbed back and forth as white as the thin gown which barely protected her from the cold of the stethoscope. She Inhaled then exhaled, coughed then tried again. Then they went through the questions. Nausea, fatigue, feeling tired. What about her last cycle? She thought back, then felt hot, like boiling water had flooded into her face trickling out her hands. Despite the cold of the room, she radiated. "End of December." She informed him. His arms crossed while he lowered himself onto the stool across from her.

"Tris, have you been sexually active in the last month?"

"Yes." She admitted, looking down, away, like she could find a place to shrink into.

"Did you use contraceptives?"

A solid pit was forming in her stomach as sue reflected on Matthew. "Not every time." She gulped, "I'm pregnant?"

"The only thing that's sure, is that you have pneumonia, but yes, you could be pregnant." He stated, "I will have the nurse draw blood, we need to know before we do a scan, won't take more than thirty minutes. And that will sort out that question. So let's focus on the pneumonia. Okay?"

She didn't honestly know how he thought she could, but she nodded mechanically.

"You had a partial splenectomy. Typically, the residual spleen grows to full size and full function, but it can take months or even years. If it's not functioning at 100%, you're at greater risk of bacterial infections, commonly, pneumonia." She vaguely remembered this from her recovery in the Bureau. "I want to take a swab from your nasal cavity and confirm a bacterial infection before I prescribe antibiotics. We'll also need to see that blood test before I make any decisions."

She must have looked as overwhelmed as she felt. "It's going to be okay. There are a lot of options for young women. And we don't know for sure, so just hit pause." He popped his head out the door to discuss with the nurse and order the required tests.

She came in with a syringe, the doctor following, "Arm out, she'll take the blood. Is it okay if I take a look at your wounds now?"

"Is there any way to reduce the scars?" She asked, immediately feeling stupid given the source for the concern. The rubber drew tight around her bicep while he peeled back her gown. She had to concentrate hard on the fact that he was a doctor, an objective doctor. That he was not evaluating her for a beauty contest.

"You had excellent suturing, these scars are going to be barely visible in the end. Over time, they'll fade." He commented, "Just be patient." He pressed down on her rib cage under the exit would in her chest. They'd already spent hours putting plates in place to reconstruct and reattach.

"Any pain?"

She cringed a little, but not much. He let her pull the thin sheet back over herself putting on his most assuring smile.

"You're lucky you get to form scars. I don't know how it missed your heart."

The nurse invited her to take a walk down the hallway. The first stop was the water fountain for three cups of fluid that would make her light up like neon on the scan. The second was the room with the tubular machine that could dissect her like a frog in science class with half the mess and a million times the precision.

Setting up the machine took so long, they started without the blood results; although, she could tell the technicians were dawdling. The clock hand ticked loudly, around the face and she battled between nearly hyperventilating and bargaining with the unjust God she hoped existed. Somewhere during it they took a swab of her nose but she didn't even remember it, just felt the lasting sting.

The nurses crowded around the computer on the counter, waiting for a little line of text to appear from another lab somewhere in the building, each one watching their wrists and trading sideways glances at the teen in trouble in the chair. And then they sighed together.

"What does that mean?" One asked, out loud while another took the mouse.

"Why can't we just say yes or no?" another moaned, then confirmed, "One is negative, yeah, one is negative, see the explanation?"

"You can breath, little one, its negative. You're not pregnant." They stepped away with more purpose, fiddling with the last settings.

"You're OK for the scan."

They didn't let her rest in the relief for very long. They asked her to lay very still on the plank a white cross centered on her breastbone. The machine sounded like gunfire. Without fail, it delivered her into the hands of her memories.

She fought off the feeling of panic and terror. She knew that it was neurons that the associated rapid fire with the image of Will on the ground and her mother falling in the gap between the buildings. They crushed the memories together as if they didn't happen thousands of feet apart. But she managed to breath through it to take the escort back to the room.

Ten more minutes until the doctor came back, "Swabs confirm it, Bacterial Pneumonia." He was writing a prescription, "And the blood test came up negative, which I must say is a relief to me, must be to you. You're probably late because of the infection or the changes to your medication that we discussed last time. While I'm writing, would you want to go on birth control? Avoid this business in the future?"

"What is it? How's it work?" He looked at her like she was an alien but she was just Abnegation.

"There are a few options. There are pills that you can take every day that will prevent your body from releasing eggs; but you have to make sure you take it. You can discontinue at any time, or by accident, and_ still_ get pregnant." He emphasized.

"There is also an implant that we can put into your arm that lasts five years, give or take three months, does the same thing. I find that most women your age opt for the implant."

Then he paused, looking at her carefully before continuing, "There are certain diseases that get passed through sexual contact, unless you have a health report for your partner, you should also be using condoms to protect yourself. So, which do you want?"

"Me being divergent, that won't influence it?"

"No, it's hormones, not mind control." He smirked, which she didn't appreciate.

"The implant sounds fine." She left with a spreading bruise on the back of her left arm, no intention of ever making use of it, another bottle of pills for the regiment, and the promise of scan results the next day.

She returned to work, a meeting between the Amity and the former-factionless to discuss the supply needs for supporting the spring planting. Therese and her cohorts devolved quickly into paranoia and infighting. But her mind was swallowed in the what-ifs, accidents and implications of implants. It felt like too little too late when it should have felt empowering.


	27. Chapter 27: Tris claims a room

Deleted from Chapter 28, before Lauren comes to the apartment.

Why? To speed up the chapter. The argument was originally at the start of CH29, and that made CH28 feel too much like a filler chapter and delayed the action, but it was already at 5k words. So I turned my faith over to Milner and asked her to chop unnecessary stuff to try and squeeze stuff together and re-align the chapter splits.

So why was this written in the first place? To further showcase Tris getting back to her old self, reclaiming her identity, and to set up that she has a place to stay.

* * *

Christina had to use her shoulder to get her door to open. The apartment had been empty for a while, and the humidity on the top floor made the paint on the door stick to the frame. Stepping in was like rewinding the clock to the morning of the attack on Abnegation. Dishes had been forgotten in the sink, presumably from the night before. The smell of mold and decay surrounded the refrigerator. Magnets held reminders and photos.

"Gross." Christina wrinkled her nose, tying off the bag of garbage from the trashcan and quickly carrying it to the hallway.

"Open a window." Derrick waved in front of his nose. "I thought they said it was empty."

"Unoccupied." Tris reminded.

"Filthy traitor." Derrick pushed the window open and started to shuffle through the papers on the table. "Rooster Stallway. Son-of-a-bitch." He smirked, "I hated that guy."

"Well?" Christina looked for cleaning supplies, "Who wants dibs on the refrigerator."

"Oh no, I'm here to move you in. Not clean up." Zeke started backing out the door, Tris grabbed his shirt and pulled him in. "Easy, short stack, I'd hate to have to flip you."

"First to whine, you can do the fridge." Tris shoved him into the kitchen.

"Come on stiff, don't be selfish." Zeke teased, but she was already turning to explore the connecting rooms.

"Hey, Chris, there's two bedrooms."

"Yeah, which one you want?" She asked, stepping in behind her.

Tris dropped her voice, "I have an apartment."

"If you're coming back to Dauntless, you have to live here." She reminded.

"Yeah, I guess, I... It's a little soon. I'm not ready."

"Yeah, you are."

"I'm not even in, yet."

"You'll be in soon. Just pick a room."

"And if I don't make it?"

"You'll make it. So pick a room." Christina insisted, filling a bag with the clothes strewn all around the apartment.

Tris took a big breath and looked from one room to the next. They seemed to be about the same size, only one was nearly empty, barely used by the previous tenant. The stiff in her wanted to claim the dirtiest room, take the responsibility of cleaning it up. A niggling thought in the back of her mind brought a mischievous smirk. Christina would assume she'd pick the dirty one, that's why she said she could choose.

"I'll take this one." She declared, flopping on the bare mattress and hearing the squeak of the springs.

"You sure?" Christina deadpanned from the hallway.

"Yeah, I like the floor plan." She smiled, kicking her feet and looking around, only a few dust bunnies cluttered the corners.

"Positive?"

"Yeah, I better get to cleaning, it's a pit." Tris hopped off the bed and went to get the broom, barely containing a giggle seeing the glare that followed her down the hallway.

Zeke was gagging as he lifted spoiled items and got something sticky on his hands. "Someone get me a washrag." He groaned.

"What's wrong? It's just a little… what is that?" Tris peered over his shoulder, her hand landing on his back as she leaned.

"I don't know. I think it's drippings from meat."

"Ew." Tris stepped up to the dirty plates in the sink and searched the drawers for a rag, finding one crumpled up under a pot holder. She wet it and crouched next to Zeke. "You big baby." She reached over him and started to strip layers of goo off the shelf.

Zeke was blocked by the bag and the door and Tris's warm body. He leaned closer to her, letting the scent of her soap replace the noxious odors. When she moved away, Zeke looked to see if there were any other spills on the shelves that needed cleaning.

* * *

Posting of this chapter is 100% prompted by my dear friend taking great strides in her personal relationships and showing great courage!


	28. Chapter 28: Story Snippets 16

**SNIPPETS! **

* * *

He reads the names on the sheet and checks the faces in front of him. He thought they'd be older, taller, teenagers with attitudes and acne. But one is so small he wonders if she's really seven. Overall, they are sullen and scared. Each one has a stack of blankets, a pillow, a bag and one more thing in common: they're orphans. He can't shake the feeling that no one thought it through when they pulled the trigger and pressed the plungers to deliver these kids onto the mercy of a broken faction.

* * *

Tris may be the only woman he wants to make love to, cuddle with, make promises in vulnerable moments with; but she's not the only one he wants to fuck. He'd never touch them when he has her, but it doesn't stop his mind from wondering in the training room, when he's on belay and any girl's ass is just above him and he's not aloud to look away. The view is good.

* * *

The aftermath is silent compared to the storm that finally blew through. Both of them knew it was coming, but he didn't expect to be back on his heels reeling from her truths. He knew he was right, knew everyone was on his side, until they weren't. He couldn't lift his eyes to meet anyone's. He couldn't bare the pressure of their glances. He was squeezed from the room to struggle on his own. To find some way to be better, to be wrong gracefully, to apologize to her, to them, to admit that the damned therapist had given him this weeks before and to contemplate if she was entirely right or if he could still be stubborn.

* * *

He's never looked vulnerable before. He's been scared, he's been open, he's begged her and threatened her. But there isn't enough fight left in him to cover the raw nerves. Just the breeze of her movement makes him squirm in pain. She knows she owes it to him to give him something back, a truth to build on.

* * *

Everyone has a game plan. She certainly had one. When he said he was going to Amity, she needed a vacation, an excuse to get him by himself, away from all the other girls and Four's tempering influence. The rest she could handle - short term guaranteed - the long term she was less prepared for. Now, on the way back with his undivided devotion, she was starting to panic.


	29. Chapter 29: Original Gun Range

**Originally, I was going to tackle Tris's issues with guns earlier in the story and with a much different approach. But it didn't quite fit where I had planned it. And then it didn't fit at all. So I used bits and pieces but in the end CH31 was very different.**

* * *

Training with Four was a lot different than being trained by Four. He said it would be harder, that she believed, but she was searching for the nicer side of him he promised. She'd change in the member's locker room, thankful for the privacy she missed in initiation. Then ran four laps around the training room by herself because running with him was too much, too fast. Then they'd meet in the middle.

She felt a strangling constriction in her throat the first time he put a handgun in front of her. The smell of the range and the POP! POP! POP! of other members pinching rounds quickened her pulse and made her sweat.

"Just hold it." He suggested, checking the chamber and pulling the clip. "It's not even loaded."

She put both hands out and he placed it on her palms. Her pulse picked up, he watched her eyes focus in and her nostrils narrow.

"Hold it right." He had the edge of the instructor, and she turned it in her palm. "Now hold it out in front of you."

He stood to her side, she took a deep breath and raised it up.

"Breath in. One, two, three." He counted. "Out, two, three. Breath in and on three, squeeze." He saw her finger twitch, but it didn't compress. "It's okay, out, and in, and squeeze." She pulled and the action clicked. She let it fall heavy in her hand down to her thighs.

Tris dove to the side and vomited mostly dry heaves and acid. He scurried to get the gun out of her hands and uneasily rubbed her back. He monitored her, wide-eyed and concerned, waiting for her to lash out at him, to give him what he deserves for pushing her. It seemed like a good idea, helping her to face her fears. But with each convulsion of her stomach, he started to have his doubts. The glare in her eyes was deepened by the petechiae splotching around her sockets and the red rimmed lids washed with tears. He pushed her to the locker room muttering his concerns and waited, leaving it up to her to decide if she was done or just freshening up.

He leans up against the wall waiting, wondering if she'll talk to him. Zeke offers him a bit of a protein bar, he initially waves it off, but he insists.

"Come on, thin-fuck." He pushes it back on him. "Protein, calories, tasty..."

"Don't call me that." he warns, taking the bar and reluctantly chewing.

"Eat up and I won't have to. Where's Tris?"

"In there." He points.

"Oh, well, you should invite her over Friday." He shrugged, then moved along, like his only mission was to feed him.

Tris appeared leaning with a humph against the door, still in her workout gear, now dampened by water dribbling off her hair and face. She smiled weakly and dropped his eye contact with embarrassment. That same feeling rushed over him, wanting to wake her up, push her and steadies his resolve.

"Next time, you have to clean up after yourself." He warned with a playful nudge, putting his arm around her. "I think that went well." She glared at him, not realizing until she was standing at the table that he'd brought her back to the gun range.

"Are you serious?"

"Absolutely." He pushed it towards her holding his face tight. "Take a breath and pick it up."

"No." She narrowed her eyes at him, balking away.

"It's not negotiable." He eyed her, her face struck in disgust until she reached out and curled her hands around the gun then her expression relaxed into contemplation. "Point it down the range." Her hands shook. "Breath and squeeze." And she did. Relaxing, "Again." And she did. "Again." He played out his compulsion for repetition on her until her arms didn't go slack between.

"Ready?" He asked, loading a second weapon and handing it to her.

"No." Her voice was small. He moved around behind her and put his arms on the outside of hers.

"Breath in, two, three, out: two, three; in, two, three, squeeze." He pulled her finger back with his and the gun went off. His lips quickly found her temple, the first kindness she could feel in the whole process. "Amazing. Now again."

He held her as they waited for the train, his arms wrapped around her's. Both their hands smelling like gun powder and her was mind blank, tired. They didn't even look at the target when she was finished, a bullseye wasn't his goal.

"You did well." But there was more content in his sigh than his words. His breath and his squeeze calmly assured her she was okay. "I'll see you Friday. Zeke's invited us over, if you want to." She shrugged in agreement before stretching onto her tip toes for a quick kiss and ran to jump. Four watched her swing herself into the opening, disappearing at speed back to the city.

The training regime he'd designed for himself, with her parts included, ensured they only had a dozen minutes to stand and relax. Just a dozen minutes where he tried to calm down, lose the rage that built up after a full day of frustration and enjoy her rather than hate her. But tonight was different, he didn't feel angry, stiffled, or lacking; he felt proud - of her and his being able to help her.


	30. Chapter 30: Story Snippets 17

**More Snippets from the Tumblr page.**

* * *

Something was wrong, she could tell the instant she locked eyes with him. He was stiff, cold, reserved. She didn't expect it when he dropped her off with a larger group and disappeared with less than a word.

* * *

Busy… Everyone has said he's busy. For four weeks he's been too busy to say hi, too busy to watch from the side, too busy to be at Sunday dinner. Busy with what? Can't say. When he finally shows up to gather her, he's too busy for an explanation but his smile makes it okay, seeing him well and whole and awkwardly complimenting her progress with a blushing grin makes it okay. Not perfect, not acceptable, but bearable, because the alternative was getting hard to live with.

* * *

Defeat is the only ugly look he's ever seen on her, probably because it reflects the affects of his inner monster right back at him. Its the only time she shrinks to be smaller than herself, when she fits in her skeleton and even retracts. It hurts that he has that power over her. Its worse when he can't backpedal out of it, when it lingers like a scab.

* * *

This should feel like a gift, but receiving presents isn't something either one is practiced at. So its strange and straining, confusing and he ends up staring, holding himself and contemplating how much of this wall, his armor, should or can fall to the wayside. She let's the light of excitement wane til she's resigned and looking for any excuse to leave before he chucks his better judgement and let's the comfort of her call him in.


	31. Chapter 31: Story Snippets 18

**The great snippet migration from Tumblr continues.**

* * *

He would say he was a night owl, but there is something in h that relishes seeing both the start and end of a day. Sunsets he can see from the hall outside the control room and he watches them everyday moving window by window as the earth rotates his perspective. But sunrises he has to watch from the roof or the east hall both just outside of his tether's range. It weighs on him almost as much as living on stolen glances through rough lenses as she lives without him, without explanation.

* * *

Some cameras are so scratched that its more shadow puppets than video feed. While his shift is three hours over, it means he can watch what ever feed he wants and he's been stewing over the training room for an hour. She shows up everyday dressed in black with her bag over her shoulder. She started small, bagged in draping shirts nervously disappearing behind her bag. But as the weeks pass and she gets stronger, she becomes bigger than garments and bolder than shyness. She claims the spaces around her with her fiery presence. But he's not the only one watching, he is the only one just watching. When she cuts her hair up to her chin in an asymmetrical bob, he's stuck watching them move in like hungry predators, only he's far more helpless than she is.

* * *

His body hurts to be curled so twisted on the hot vinyl of someone's couch. The crick in his neck and the ache of his back compete with the stone bruised throb of his feet for his attention. All that's before the inflammation of his handover comes overbearing and with fleeting memories. Lauren is plastered to one side of him, arms snaked around his middle, Rafael to the other with his legs draped across his own. He groaned in embarrassment, if this was anything like the last time, pictures of him dancing would already be making the rounds between the kids, his coworkers. He retched thinking of some incriminating grind between him and some girl being put in front of Tris. Would she accept just alcohol or would he have to admit to the peace serum too?

* * *

Purple bruises matching his hands were quickly spreading from the initial red on her shoulders. His eyes had been black against the whites instantly pushing her into recollections of Jeanine's torture. The way he slammed her into the mattress three times and cursed with each, she was sure he'd reach for her neck. But all he did was scream, "Damn it, Steven! Run!"  
Eyes from some other place, some other time searched her crinkling face until his jaw slackened and the blues started to peel out from his pupils. Then he started to shake, releasing her to cry in her panic while he retreated behind the bathroom door. She timidly approached, wishing she wasn't in a tank top.


	32. Chapter 32: Story Snippets 19

**The great snippet migration from Tumblr continues. - The ones at the end are clearly related to Tobias going to rough up Matthew, and aren't pointing to any more funny business at the Bureau - so don't gasp about it.  
**

**Also, I'd love to hear these thoughts you guys have about he snippets - the theories or the "where must this fit" type ideas. PM or put them in the reviews. :)**

* * *

It was easier to keep his guard up, go slow, be prudish before he knew the feel of her body. But Pandora's open and its a battle to keep his wants in the background, harder to keep them from influencing his plans and actions. He's hunting her and it makes him sick.

* * *

To live here means working hard everyday without exception. But its not without its fun. Soccer is continuous, a match almost always eliciting shouts, curses and cheers. But depending on who's there, the rules change. He likes it when its less cordial and he can jostle, shove, and tackle. The burn of bruises and court burn on his knees reminds him for days about how he can fit in, how he seems to belong among these clashing warriors.

* * *

Doubt and concern and duty, but not encouragement or agreement, that's what he sees in his best friend's expression. They could all get in trouble, serious trouble, but they wouldn't let him go on his own. They'll arrest him when he's done, so no one else can. And he'll be thankful its them, since this is premeditated and only his faction might cut him a break, surely the Bureau won't.

* * *

This place held nothing but bad dreams, nightmares that blurred across too many horrific days. It was surreal to see so many people where his memory only had wide open hallways and deserted security stations. They weren't treated with suspicion, just three guys among the crowd, until the bodies thinned and they were the only ones in black. It made him almost as nervous as the brooding silence that sucked all the air out of the car ride. He'd been too on edge to ask questions, it wasn't hard to figure out: they were here for a fight. If Four had asked him, he would have put up some resistance, reasoned with him; but it was Amar that came and got him, seemingly endorsing the plan.


	33. Chapter 33: Story Snippets 20

**Story Snippets... guesses and theories are always fun for me.**

* * *

She's pulling her shirt off before he can protest. Any comment that was on its way out his lips was quickly replaced by an intense desire to have her legs on his shoulders while he's buried into her. He's weak willed and this never happens – not to him. He even cups her breast in his palm before the shock of her face, a stranger's smile and a stranger's eyes, brings back his awkward ability to flee.

* * *

He has to focus. Eyes are on them, judging, and this will take a lot of affection. He has a three day plan and day one involves cleaning guns in the store room where she can smell them and hear the pops at the range. Amar is reading their body language, talking Harrison off the ledge. Because when she shakes and starts to pull away, he has no choice but to close her in with a forceful arm around her back.

* * *

It seemed fitting to have broken bones in his hand. He felt undeniably marked but it was a hurt he had to carry inside. He never did well internalizing only, so the throb of swelling and the sting in movement made him think of it as a wound that time would heal. At the same time, she was the victim and his outrage on her behalf was stemming from his ownership of her, his entitled and selfish right to protect her, even without permission. He wondered if it made him weak, a coward to absorb her as part of himself; or if it would make her weak, not taking care of her own problems.


	34. Chapter 34: Story Snippets 21

**More Snippets - Hazard a guess or theory in the reviews**

* * *

He doesn't care what she's wearing when she's in his bed, until its humid and hot and he comes home to her splayed on the mattress. She isn't wearing his shirt or bound up in her flannel pajamas. Its a simple, tight tank top and panties that curve over her ass and accentuates the subtle bend in her waist. Usually, when its closer to lunch than sunset, he falls onto bed, but tonight he has to touch, slip the cotton off her and satiate the thrum of his chest and the twitch in his pants. She's barely conscious of how he rocks unto her and teeters her one thrust after the other over and back until the edge is a knife biting between her thighs with want. And she tumbles, surrounded by him back into a sedate and ordinary dream.

* * *

Sleeping together is frustratingly focused on sleeping. Some nights she's thankful, having heard about other boys groping other girls into either type of exhaustion. But there's more, always more, because there's a security in knowing he desires her. In the absence of being pursued, she has ample doubt to contemplate.

* * *

It exhausts him to patiently wait and let her fall asleep in his arms. He has to mind his hands and watch his hips, monitor his kisses. Because he never wants to see her resign herself to him again. He never wants to feel like her attacker the way he felt when she compressed in on herself and prepared to be broken. He's terrified to do anything but hold her and shield her from the world.


	35. Chapter 35: Free Pass

**Originally I thought about Four being pestered and antagonized by some anonymous jerk - maybe Harrison, maybe Amar, someone that would put him on edge about being physically close to Tris. But it didn't ever seem to work as a plot device, so I chucked it. But here's a little surviving piece.**

* * *

Another note was under his door. His legs quaked when he knelt to pick it up the strain of his training had him aching. This would make six, one for each day she's come to train.

_'Do you think you can will the unwilling to pass?'_

He set it on the pile on the table. Each card carried a message that played on every doubt he had. That he would snap. That she'd fail. That she would lie and be found out. That she would quit. The first one was the worst, so awful he'd read it every day.

_'Kissing traitors on tailgates doesn't make you brave.'_

The second pressed the point and gave him pause.

_'You don't look at other friends like that…'_

The third prompted a panic, followed by a resolution to keep the wall between them: instructor and initiate.

_'An awful lot of touch for a stiff…'_

He had his suspicions. That it was Harrison reminding him that he was under surveillance or Amar trying to scare him into rethinking.

But a quick look through the cameras at the gate, the ones on his hallway, and the logs on the access screens made him doubt. He'd gone so far as to trudged through three days of survailance tape, following Harrison frame by frame without even a hint that he was remotely interested in Tris or him or doing anything other than looking bored and drawn dealing with the daily operations of the faction.

He quickly dismissed Amar as a suspect, he was just as involved in planning her training routine as he was, with even more thoughtfulness and consideration for her injuries.

When he showed the first four to Amar, he watched carefully as he flipped one over the other, reading them each twice. Amar grimaced when he got to the first one,

"So, you've got a stalker. I wouldn't call it a fan."

"What do I do about it?"

"You toe the line, don't give them anything else. If they are watching you this closely, don't fool around." Four let out a heavy sigh, "I told you, you have to be careful with this girl, she's like a drug for you. Any how, she's not doing bad so far, she might even pass drills. Just waiting for her to be cleared for serums, then I'll know more about that."

"What do you mean?" Four had assumed she'd already started sims, that she just didn't mention it since he started distancing himself.

"Oh, it's a chemistry thing. Something with her medications. Janice is sorting it out." Amar shrugged dismissively.

"Medications?"

Amar shrugged, "So, you think this is Harrison?"

"I've already checked days of tape, it doesn't look like he's had any time to snoop, no visitors with photos, no conversations where he looks even interested. If he's involved, he's not doing the dirty work."

"You think you're pushing her a little hard?"

"She can take it."

"She can, but things are different than when you were her instructor, she might be expecting —.

"A free pass? No favoritism."

"She might be expecting you to be a little nicer." Amar clarified.

"She needs structure, discipline to get through this part. She doesn't need me to pander to her."

"I mean, it's not like I know women all that well, but I do know a thing or two about relationships. You might want to think about throwing in a compliment every now and then."

Four arched his eyebrow, and rolled his eyes and lied. "I complement her."

"Okay, good. Just checking." Amar smiled, scooping up his folders and Tris' training plan before stepping out.


	36. Chapter 36: Four gets the message

**This was after Four got arrested for punching Matthew, and getting a message from Anxo while he waited for more information. I also originally had the first session with Melissa as before he got sentenced, like a mental-health check prior to trial, but ditched that idea and this scene with it.**

* * *

"Four?" Anxo called to him, bringing him the tray of food for the evening. "I have messages for you."

"What?" He rolled up to a sitting position.

Anxo pulled out a piece of paper, crumpled from his pocked and smoothed it. He blinked his eyes and moved the paper, inadvertently admitting his need for glasses.

Four was about to stand up and snatch it from him when he seemed to find the right distance.

"Okay. One, Johanna is sending a therapist. Have fun with that." Anxo giggled, "Two, Harrison has booked your hearing for tomorrow. And three, Amar says Tris stopped by to say 'Go fuck yourself'. And four, Tris says she's not quitting."

"Really?"

"Yeah, kind of harsh sending a therapist. I mean, you're a nut case, but you're not the worst one here."

"She said, 'Go fuck yourself'?"

"Yep, that's what it says. Let me save you some time with the shrink, it means she's pissed at you."

Four huffed, "Thanks. When's the hearing?"

"Doesn't say, just tomorrow, so brush your teeth and look sharp." Anxo crumpled the paper back up and pushed it in his pocket, setting the food on the little ledge.

"Any way to get less of the green stuff and more of the meat?" Four picked at the three piles of vegetables.

"Janice has never volunteered to get food for a detainee before. Something tells me, you don't have a chance." Anxo snickered.


	37. Chapter 37: Anger Management Excerpt

**This was originally part of the first meeting with Melissa, but it just didn't feel right at the time and so I clipped it and then made significant edits.**

* * *

"Beat." He corrected, "I didn't bludgeon anyone."

"Is there a difference?"

"Bludgeon implies I used an object."

"He's still in the hospital."

Four shrugged, "Maybe he gets the message."

"What was the message?" She finally looked down, satisfied at the start of his reluctant responses.

"Record's sealed." He smiled smugly. "I'm not allowed to discuss it."

She sat back in the chair, eying him over, contemplating the categories that required sealing records.

"So tell me about punching the wall, what was the point of that?"

"The conversation was over." He folded his arms.

"Do you always end conversations with punching something?"

"Only when they don't end." He flashed his brows up and flared his nostrils.

"It says here that you and your mother were abused." He grimaced, "Did you witness her abuse?"

"Yes."

[There is something missing here that would have been Melissa testing an assumption to get a reaction or figure out how Four feels]

"No." He spit back against her accusation quickly, before he had a chance to think.

"So it's an empty threat, good." She smiled, sitting back, he sighed in annoyance. "Do you find you become violent with your friends?"

"It's Dauntless." His knee started to jump.

"Outside of training, do you use violence towards your friends."

His jaw clenched thinking of losing control with George, with Zeke. The split lips and bruised bodies he'd left behind recently and in the distant past. No of it deserved.

"Yes." It was no use to lie in Candor.


	38. Chapter 38: Story Snippets 22

**Theories are welcome. The more outlandish the better.**

* * *

She surprises him, surprises herself. He can't process anything. Not the pained squint of her eyes, or the press of nails on his stomach, least the repercussions of being bare inside her. All he feels is warmth, wetness, and a tightness on his tip then he needs all the way to his base - everything that makes him feel, in the moment, like its exactly what he was put on Earth to feel. He no longer has patients enough not to arch up into her, to make her move over him. She wimpers and brings him back.

* * *

Zeke likes her more than he wants to. He never really got to know her before, only knew she was important to Four and how she jerked him out of his shell. She was important to Uriah as well, or he wouldn't have agreed. She's smart, tactful about her observations and stubborn enough that she's easy to train. It's easy to imagine how both his brothers got so wrapped up in her, he was starting to himself.

* * *

Infidelity isn't rare, but it was easier to hide when they were bigger. While most just don't settle into exclusive relationships, those that do have the constant temptation and ready access. So he's not surprised when he has a heartbroken new roommate crying his eyes out with a bottle. But explaining that doesn't help calm him or pry the jug from his locked grip.

* * *

Collaboration, cooperation, engagement, exchanging, progressing, aligning…. A room full of factions trying to be more like abnegation and less like themselves. It borders on hilarity for how little they know what he knows so well. He's caught off guard when he's put in the center of the conversation, thinking his black cloaked him from attention. But clearly some of them see him in grey.

* * *

Defeat is on the horizon inevitable as the rising sun. She wonders why she keeps coming back. Her apprehension started with the swing of his mood, then backed up to the front door before migrating to when she packed her bag to leave. Now she dreads seeing his indifference all day and into her dreams. Its his slow punishment and she feels guilty enough to serve her sentence but she knows it ends with her alone in her apartment. She contemplates taking the option now before he banishes her himself. But that would make her a coward.


	39. Chapter 39: Story Snippets 23

**Tumblr transfer of Snippets. Share you opinions. :)**

* * *

She finally understands what she's been feeling for the last half dozen weeks by the sure contrast with her satisfaction. It's taken him a minute or two to get his heart beat back down to match his lungs which caught up so quickly. And the steady, pulse under her ear counted down her own euphoria. His hands are rough on her back, still tucked up under her shirt where he gripped her and held her to him. She should feel sticky and gross for all the sweat that's rubbed off between them, but it's like being bathed in his promises, his trust. And trust had everything to do with what just happened. She's not a fool, touch isn't something he gives with abandon.

.

* * *

"He'll figure it out." She dismissed, carefully putting her hand into his and letting him lead the way down the street. She was painfully aware of the way her smile pinched her cheeks tightly, Tobias looked a little more reserved, but he was still smirking.

.

* * *

She didn't say anything, she didn't even move until he pulled the sheet up to cover her. She nodded that she was okay and worried her bottom lip. He was saturated with concern, then guilt – the one person he wouldn't hurt looked shattered. He couldn't stay and look at her processing what he'd done, but sliding on his shorts on the way to the bathroom sealed her dillusions into fact.

.

* * *

He's not going to let her get away with it. Its really his fault since he let her carry on in this semi-selfless way; sparing his feelings, bending to what he wants. But what he wants is a little eye contact and a lot less guilt over how she shrinks when she thinks he's disappointed. He's not. He hasn't been, but he has liked the way she panders to him, shows nothing but deference. And its kept him up. He scoops her up from where she huddles and places her on his lap. Hard work starts with admitting his own wrongs.


	40. Chapter 40: Story Snippets 24

**OK, even I forgot about these gems... let me know what you think. Who you suspect. How you feel.**

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It's a stupid tradition - white dresses and flowers and horrible music so old no one knows the composer or the musicians, or can remember a time when someone didn't play the same tired track. The shoes ache and the guests look just as pained about the stuffy formality of the entire affair. Yet, no one thought to make a change, no one thought to do it different. It's just how it is. Maybe that's why most people skip the formality and just shack up. It's more comfortable that way. But not him, he wanted to proclaim to the world and have one Hell of a party.

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* * *

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She seemed so excited, so he sucked it up and played along. He didn't really mean to say it when he did. Not that he didn't mean it, but he'd never thought the public display was very appropriate. Dauntless tradition was fading out generation by generation, this was very, very old school. Even the cold of the hallways buried deep couldn't keep him from feeling woozy in the heavy layers of his rented suit. He'd rather climb to the top of the wall in that monkey suit than have to declare the overly sappy vows in front of the whole faction, but these are the things you do for love.

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* * *

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Blue, pink, white, yellow, green… all soft and mellow and smaller than he could imagine. How could anyone start off _that_ small and grow as big as him? Was he ever that small, was she? And what size was the right size, was the smallest size for when they were only brand new? Could it even wear it for a week before it was too small? Maybe it was better to get the next size up or the size after that, room to grow - maybe longer to get use out of it. When he touched the fabric, it felt soft like the mist in the early mornings that settled waist high - he always liked walking to school in the mist. School… would the schools be fixed by the time it needed them? Or would they still be holding classrooms in each faction too scared to let the kids mingle until they were adults? How much could change in just a couple decades, or in a few months at that.

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* * *

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It feels new somehow. It's like the last three years never happened, but if they didn't he wouldn't feel the way he does. He didn't think it would change things, that it was just some charade they'd do and have the photos to point to years down the line, just like the parties, the holidays, the dinners on Sunday - just another day in their lives. But something feels different enough that he can't look at her exactly the same way. He can't think of her as the same person. It's like those little scripted phrases were a spell that brought out someone even more lovely and beautiful and all the mores so since they meant she was for ever his and he was forever hers. Now and forever, however long that might be.


	41. Chapter 41: Story Snippets 25

**From Tumblr to you...**

* * *

Life use to be easy. If he wanted a drink he could walk to the bar. If his friends asked him out he could just go. If his stomach sang with a hunger that felt five days old and not an hours, he could just eat. But as he dished the sloppy soup of grains and milk into the ever weaving and avoiding target, he thought about stealing just one bite to curb the pain. But with each gumming bite and scooped up dribble, he steadied his resolve and counted down the minutes until he could be selfish.

* * *

"This is the member's training center, doubt you saw much of it. The locker room is over there, the water fountain, the equipment. Yep. Your basic stuff. Through there is the drill room, where you did initiation. If you have questions just ask. And clean up after yourself. And don't fuck it up with Four, okay?" He smiled briefly, sending her on her way — off balance and tentative

* * *

Sleep always felt like a right, something unalienable and completely within his control- the war excluded. And specifically, finding time for a few minutes or an hour was common between shifts and meals and friends had been easy. But there's a new dictator in town, one with iron fists and a pension for wailing and screaming at regular intervals. He is exhausted.

* * *

The right thing is to walk away. Let everyone get back to their routines and forget. Disappear and make it easier. They've all been pulled in and swallowed up and its just not fair. There's too many secrets, too many ignored fears, too much silence… Broken beyond repair.


	42. Chapter 42: Story Snippets 26

**More SNIPPETS... enjoy**

* * *

She feels worn and used like a hard day's work but it's all from being worked over by him. It's a blissful sleepiness that soothes her as much as the rhythm of his chest under her head. They're sticky and salty and going no where fast. She's learning he has a pattern. The lazy rubbing of her back to rouse her, the gentle push of a massage to wake her, and the persistent sinking of his hands lower and lower until she's as aroused as him. She doesn't have the heart to complain about how sore he's made her; she's coming to trust that the ache will pale in comparison of where he can take her.

* * *

He said he was okay, but no one believed him, least of all her. She could tell he was quiet because he was too focused on ignoring his fear. Disrupting that just edged him into irritation. She tried to give him an out, a way to say no gracefully, but he passed giving her the quickest of smiles as an assurance. If Zeke didn't know before, he seemed to get it now and pulled him aside and seemed to do the same thing, only to get the same response. At least Zeke was there to harness him in, and Tris to hold his hand as he waited, silent in the whooping crowd, the sweat eating through his shirt and steaming on his neck.

* * *

Christina had collected every bottle from the bathroom, dug them out of her bags and her dresser, and had them grouped on the table by name. She looked over the note and swept bottle after bottle into a trash bag. Tris crossed her arms and glared at the invasion. Each crutch she'd kept just incase, or as a backup. It wasn't like she'd have so many if she really was taking them all the time. A fact no one seemed to consider.

* * *

Four is drunk in a way that Lauren hasn't seen in years. In a way that makes him agree to almost anything and belligerent when she intervenes. What's worse, the pit is full of girls on the hunt, and he's been an elusive target the last few years. His admissions at Candor softened his reputation and each one wants him to fall in love with them, sacrifice for them, be fixed by them. And from her perspective, Lauren thinks he might let it happen even if its just for a night. Getting him out of the pit alone will be exhausting.

* * *

Tris never treats him like this. She doesn't flatter him or hang on him or press up against him. And he likes this. He likes that there are breasts being thrust at him and hands putting his hands on hips. He likes the tingle of whispers against the soft skin below his ear. He likes being young and dauntless and desired like no one has ever desired him. It feels powerful.


	43. Chapter 43: Story Snippets 27

**Tumblr transfers**

**These were 11mo old at the time that I plopped them over here. So some of these, more or less, were incorporated into the story.**

* * *

Rachelle has him separated, pulled aside and they're quickly slipping out of Lauren's view. Behind the pit, in the intricate tunnels and past occupied doorways, she tugs him until he laughs and pulls her to a stop. She's tall and sturdy, older and by far more experienced, all things that could make for a memorable fuck. But he knows where the cameras are and that shakes him from his hormones. Now he feels ridiculous, waves to who ever is on duty and excuses himself, not so politely, from an unintentional sextape. Lauren is just at the mouth of the tunnels when Four comes out laughing and Rachelle complaining.

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* * *

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"You are never drinking again!" She yelled, dropping him into his shower with a huff. He protests, weakly, before he vomits, again, and the cold water hits him. She peels off his shirt but doesn't bother with his pants. Just let's him cool off before turning the water off and rolling him onto his side.  
"God, you asshole." She kicks the back of his thigh and helps herself to a beer from his fridge.

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* * *

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Zeke's at the fence and as part of their agreement, he checks on Shauna everyday. Its awkward. She addresses him shortly and with suspicion. But after six days of putting up with her as cheerfully as he can she finally has a request of him. The sun is out and its warm. All she wants is to go outside, sit on the fresh green grass and not feel like a prisoner. But there are stairs everywhere. He has no where to be, he might as well play soccer on the field outside. Its a win-win.

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* * *

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Joining the Pedrads has more conditions than Dauntless. Sunday dinners, birthdays, moving furniture, drinking almost every night. Its not until a month in that Zeke let's him know that its OK to say no. Being family means being asked, not being required to always say yes. Its pure relief, and finally he hits his pillow at a reasonable time.

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* * *

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It takes a while to get her to relax, allow him to move around her and sit with her between his legs. He gives her shoulders the lightest touch, letting time not pressure soothe her aches. Then moving to her shoulders and down her back, around to the tops of her thighs. His lips are on her neck, he can feel the flush spread under her skin. She arches back when he grips her hamstring. He's not as smooth as he wants to be unbuttoning her pants, but she doesn't stop him. She seemingly prepares herself, panting heavy and stretching up her torso. He wished he knew what to do, the awkward searching bringing a giggle to her lips and her hand to his wrist.

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* * *

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Tiny fists pounded against the inside of her left temple. Scratches blistered into sores from the back of her tongue all the way to the base of her throat. Sleep came fitfully an hour or two at a time before she hacked up mucus that drowned her lungs. As disoriented as she was, she knew it was too early to hear the shuffle of feet and the bang of pots. Someone broke in to make her soup.


	44. Chapter 44: Story Snippets 28

The land of She, She, and She... So, so sorry about this one.

She had her heart set on more hookups and maybe more than just fun. She even pieced together some sexy fashions just for the training room. She wasn't entirely surprised to learn that his skills weren't secret, but jealousy burned when she heard he left with her.

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* * *

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He'd planned on giving her the top drawer. A place to put her things maybe keep clothes or something. He'd hoped shed eventually sleep over, maybe move in - when he let his fantasies take over. But all that would have to wait as his mostly unwelcomed house guest made himself comfortable in all the spots he'd carved out for her.

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* * *

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Just when he had her relaxed, his hand finally up her shirt and hers pressing under his, the God Damned key turned in the lock and she slipped quickly off him. Back to square one.

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* * *

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Her body has lied to her. Told her she needed touch to feel good. Told her that if she let it happen it would be a reward, worth it, what she needed. And each time it was a lie. There was no point in giving in to the whispers in her head or the ache in her thighs. She'd been fooled before.


	45. Chapter 45: Story Snippets 29

**Story Snippets from the Tumblr: Inopinion dot tumblr dot com, link in my profile.**

* * *

Timid and nervous are two things she wished she was. Instead all she felt was dread and scared. She knew he wanted it, knew he wouldn't wait forever, or more honestly was afraid he would take what he could. Facing her fear made her body shake and her heart stop, but putting him in an increasingly desperate state could only make the inevitable worse. Better to suffer it like a band-aid - fast and far between..

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* * *

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There's not a lot of maturity in the room. Just a hot headed victim and a woman scorned. A lecture about how adults don't do this isn't going to go well with two ferocious children. Its best to let them grapple it out on the mat, get some of the energy out, then try to make them talk.

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* * *

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Its so hard to navigate between self sacrifice to find the bedrock of what she wants. All he needs to hear is that she wants him to be with her and he'd be there. But she's full of 'if you want' and 'I'll support you' and bullshit statements that push this back on him. It is what he wants but it has to be right for both of them.

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* * *

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Grains of gritty soil fall through his hands as he taps off the roots of the spring weeds. Earthworms, brought to the surface as he tilled and pulled, slithered over the contours and back down into darkness. He wanted to be an earthworm. Wanted a life with quiet purpose. There's honesty in working the earth, making things better, growing food and flowers. Simplicity. Security. Going unnoticed under the layers.

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* * *

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He's a runaway. Things get hard and he checks out. His feet are itching to go, find some place less uncomfortable, less complicated. But his heart isn't in it, not like before. He has to settle into this feeling, make a home despite it, with it.


	46. Chapter 46: Story Snippets 30

Procrastinating... at least I'm doing *something* related to writing...

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* * *

His eyes glaze over and he reaches for the bottle. His best friends have been discussing for ten minutes whether they prefer girls with bigger inner lips or smaller. Each one enumerating the pros and cons (and a few names he wished he never heard) enthusiastically until they focus on their task and pencil them in, in moderation, on the diagram. At least they know better than to ask which he's dealing with, not that he knew enough to pay attention. Satisfied that they have just enough detail, they thrust the paper in front of him and begin to explain foreplay. Eventually, they rescue the bottle, lest they have to repeat the discussion.

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* * *

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Walking the fence was supposed to be the worst of being at the fence. It took four days to travel the perimeter, on foot, looking for something, anything to make it feel worth while. And that meant camping out at the three check points, just three people all wishing they were back at the barracks. But it suited him just fine.

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* * *

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Day 1, what was all the fuss? Sure it got hot and they had to walk single file and there were spring mosquitos , but they had nets on their hats. Day 2, in a never ceasing down pour that drowned him and blinded him, that touched on the complaints. Sleeping on damp floors in damp sleeping bags, that irked him. Day 3, cold and windy and still in wet pants and jacket, the chafing between his thighs put everything in perspective. 3 days down, 28 left to go.

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* * *

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He thought the stories in the lockerroom were exagerated. But the fence is like a breeding compound. Something about the boredom, the lack of alcohol, the close quarters turned the most descrete men into bunk hopping whores as if no one was watching, listening, or getting off to their escapade. He honestly couldn't imagine what it looked like with two girls on one guy systematically riding him, luckily there was a demonstration. It was educational.

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* * *

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It burns. Her first recognizable thought is that both legs and her back and each arm burns. Not like fire, but like mint cream heating and cooling tingling flesh. It burns and she cannot move or ease it as it intensifies under every pore.


	47. Chapter 47: Four's Crushed

**Unused form Chapter 34 - Before I wrote Christina confronting Four about the bruises on Tris's arms, I wrote it from Four's perspective: him discussing it with Rafael and his compulsion to leave. I often write a scene multiple ways and then pick which one seems to flow better. And while I don't often write from outside of Four / Tris's perspectives, it adds a nice change of pace and perspective that I couldn't pass up. Ultimately, I wanted to show that well-meaning friends aren't always doing the "right thing" and that we all bring bias into situations.  
**

* * *

Four lead the way back up the path and out to the training room. The heavy footsteps behind her had Tris glancing back every few steps while Anxo tailed them all the way until they stepped through the threshold. Four didn't even turn back, instead stepping into the lockerroom just long enough for Tris to disappear into her's. He wanted to avoid her and any continuation of their conversation. He'd plodded down the path to give himself time to think, not to be confronted.

He didn't make it to the door before Rafael's smiling greeting was crushed by his distressed glare.

"Uh oh." He commented, putting his arm around Four's shoulders and holding him back.

"I'm late for something." He tried.

"No, you're not. What's up?"

"I um… I need to leave."

"Four, come on. You got no where to be. What's wrong?"\

"You ever think about going back?" Four's head snapped around checking for prying eyes. Rafael grabbed his shirt and pulled him away from the incoming crowd of members towards the relative solitude of the rock wall.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Rafael spit harshly.

"I just, I think I fit better there," he explained.

"What happened?" Four avoided his eyes and started to mumble while he walked away, "You're not going back."

"I think I should. I'm no good here."

"You're dead there. You're not going anywhere. Now, what happened?"

"I…" Four made eye contact and forgot about all the people milling about their day. He forgot about his persona and his reputation. He forgot about hope and happiness. All he felt was a chilling shame that twisted his face and he sputtered. "I hurt her."

"What? She just walked in with you. She's fine."

Four shook his head, clutching around his torso. "I really, really hurt her. I could have killed her."

"When was this?"

"Last night."

"Four… I. Shit. What got you so mad?"

"I wasn't mad. I was sleeping." He admitted.

"Oh!" Rafael laughed, reaching out and slapping his shoulder. "Jeeze, you scared me." Four stared back, shocked and getting angry. "Seriously, you must have grabbed me a half dozen times. Hurts like hell, but it heals up. Was it the one about Steven?"

"What? You knew?"

"Sure. You do scary shit all the time. Yelling. Thrashing around. Grabbing. I probably owe you a couple cold clocks for it. It's no big deal. It's a night terror." He laughed, Four smiled a little. He felt better somehow knowing he'd always stopped at the squeezing. That he'd never almost killed Rafael.

"You!" Christina yelled, pointing her finger and on a mission. Four's stomach flipped. He'd never really considered Christina to be scary before. But he'd also never imagined her barreling across the training room with fists clenched and seeing red.

"Not a good time." Rafael stepped between them, keeping her at a reasonable distance.

"Why'd you do it?" She shouted over Rafael's shoulder.

"He didn't do anything. Okay?"

"She's fucking bruised like a grape juice stain." Four winced, feeling sick at the description.

"He didn't mean to. He gets night terrors. This happens sometimes." Rafael tried to calm her down.

"Why are you protecting him? We should be arresting him. Turning him in."

"Seriously. He didn't know what he was doing. He had a night terror. Lauren explained it to me. They don't remember the dream, they just act it out. It's like sleep walking. Really, it's more my fault. I thought he knew what was happening. So I didn't mention it to him." Christina stared back, not sure if she was willing to accept and back down.

"You knew he was a nutter and you didn't warn Tris? She's half his size. He could have killed her."

"She's right, you know." Four was recalling the image of Tris in his landscape: red marks and dead eyes. "I should just go."

"No. You stay right there!" Rafael pointed at him. Four had never seen a demanding side to his friend. He sank down on the spot and let the thoughts and options swarm through his head. Rafael backed Christina up and continued to talk to her, out of ear shot. Just as he had her calmed down, Four saw Tris approaching, looking concerned. He felt sick looking at her, knowing she was carrying marks that he made. He couldn't face her, not yet. Four picked the quickest path out of the training room.


	48. Chapter 48: Amar Confronts Four, 2 ways

**Shaomei pointed out to me in a PM that I had posted CH35's deleted scene a second time as CH48. I'm normally very good about labeling, but that one snuck out. Sorry about that. So here's something else... like with so many things, I wrote Amar's confrontation with Four about Tris's rape in her sims a couple ways. One way was with sympathy and caution that would set Amar up as a confidant and a friend. That's the way I went in the end. But the other option was to have Amar be suspicious and jump to conclusions. The idea that Dauntless wouldn't take rape lightly and would protect their victims, especially the women, fueled an alternate theory that Amar -with his years of experience in watching sims- would know that fears like hers came from a reality and that Four was most likely her attacker. It was Four in the sim after all. This would have wedged Four and Amar apart. It would have opened Four up to be more supportive and forgiving of Tris because all of his anger and focus would be on Amar and that betrayal and things would probably have been happier and a lot less fun.**

**So, forgive the redundancy, but I wrote it two ways with heavy overlap.**

* * *

Four kept one screen on the hallway outside the simulation room. He couldn't keep his eyes from wondering over again and again. Amar had walked Tris in, peaking through her charts and having a conversation the camera didn't collect. Ten minutes later, they're still in there. Each minute made him more nervous and scared for her. A long time meant the same for her as it did for him, things had changed.

He considered checking the back door that poked out into the rarely used utility hallway, or walking down and checking. But he knew she was safe with Amar.

The door opened behind him, Four swiveled, expecting to see Harrison and starting to give a report on the morning's investigation into the assault the night before. Hands were around his throat before he had a chance, a fist clocking his temple like a hammer on a nail. His vision blurred, his hands too weak to defend.

His aching wrists were the first thing he notice, then the throb behind his eyes. His hands were secured behind him with cuffs. Amar's hand slapped his face waking him.

"What the fuck?" he slobbered, wiped his torn lip on the edge of his shirt and attempted to get his bearing, but not before another neck snapping collision. "Fuck! Stop!" he shouted, pulling against the metal until it cut his skin.

"Is that what she said?" Amar paced.

"Who? What?"

"She beg you to stop? How'd you get her so fucked up that she keeps coming back?" Another slap when Four didn't answer.

"Stop it. What the hell is going on? Who?" Four had vaguely enough information to infer that a girl had been hurt and by him, according to Amar. But the only girl Amar had been with was Tris. Four started to panic, Tris had been hurt.

"When'd you do it? When she was an initiate?" Amar was only vaguely visible in the dimmed lights of the control room, but each footstep was loud and squeaked on the linoleum tile. His arm shot out to grab Four's throat.

"What happened to her? Is she okay"

"When did you rape her?" Amar's hand tightened.

"Rape? I never hurt her. I swear, I never hurt her." Four fought the pulse in his head to form thoughts. "Did she say I hurt her?"

"She will."

Tris was laying in the infirmary, sedated to stop the shaking. Caleb had been called to collect her, make sure she got home.

"Amar, I swear. I didn't hurt her. I haven't been with her in months." He pleaded, flinching when Amar's hand went up. "Get the truth serum, shoot me up. I didn't hurt her. I would never hurt her." He tried to wipe the blood from his nose.

"I think I will." Amar pulled out the blue syringe.

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* * *

.

Four kept one screen on the hallway outside the simulation room. He couldn't keep his eyes from wondering over again and again. Amar had walked Tris in, peaking through her charts and having a conversation the camera didn't collect. Ten minutes later, they were still in there. Each minute made him more nervous and scared for her. A long time meant the same for her as it did for him, things had changed.

He considered checking the back door that poked out into the rarely used utility hallway, or walking down and checking. But he knew she was safe with Amar.

The door opened behind him, Four swiveled, expecting to see Harrison and starting to give a report on the morning's investigation into the assault the night before. But Amar smiled back at him.

"Hey, I didn't see you come out." He pointed at the screen.

"Oh, I took her out the back door. She said she needed to get some food, it was the closest path." He shrugged.

"So? How'd it go."

"Alright, she did fine." Amar shrugged, playing with a set of handcuffs. "Did you see the new kits?" He held them out, Four took them, examined them.

"Look the same as the old ones." He smirked, passing them back.

"Naw, look. It's got this, um, I'm bad at explaining, just look." Amar sat on the edge of the chair and leaned so his arms were on his knees, Four mimicked him to get a closer look.

Four extended out his right hand, Amar popped it against his bone to get it too clip into place.

"See, how smooth?" Amar explained.

Four looked at him waiting for the punch line. Amar flicked his foot out and pulled Four's leg out from under him, pitching him forward to catch himself. He quickly attached Four to the leg of the bolted down table.

"Ha, ha." Four messaged the now bleeding cut in his wrist. "What? I'm supposed to be more cautious?" He asked, annoyed and teasing out the lesson.

Amar sat back in a chair, out of reach. His expression dripping into exhaustion, disappointment, disbelief. His hands rubbed at his eyes. He let out a long sigh.

"Tobias Eaton if you aren't your father's son." Amar pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Amar, what the fuck? Give me the key."

"When'd you do it? Initiation? Right after? It's no where in her SIMs from before. Did you groom her for it. You break her down, rank her high? Make her feel partial to you? How'd you split her off when Erudite attacked? That planned or a happy accident?"

"Do what? Where's Tris? Is she okay?"

"What do you care, as long as she crawls back." Amar sucked his teeth, contemplating. "How you get her so wrapped up that she forgives you? Hmm? You break her down, make her think she's not good enough? You convince her she likes it?"

Four felt cold, the blood draining out of his limbs. He caught Amar's stare, held it, focused in on him. "Where is Tris? Is she okay?"

"She's just the way you left her: broken, confused, shaking."

"Amar —"

"No!" He jumped to his feet and yelled. "You shut up or you answer questions!"

Four swiveled as close to his wrist as he could, to relieve the pressure of his hunched over position.

"So? When did you do it, the first time?"

Four blinked quickly, he couldn't keep up. "I, um, I don't know what you're talking about. Get these fucking off me!"

"You didn't hold her down? You didn't tell her it would be okay? You didn't pin her arms so she couldn't fight?" Amar examined Four's face carefully.

"I didn't. I'd never."

"Someone did." Amar challenged, "Possibilities are pretty limited"

"Is she saying I…? She was?" His breath caught in his throat, he pulled on the cuff, felt nauseous.

"She's too sedated to say much of anything."

"Serum."

"What?"

"Fuck! Truth serum, now. If it's the only way you'll believe me, shoot me up. I never hurt her."

Amar pulled out a blue syringe, already loaded. He held it up to call his bluff, only Four jerked his head to the side and made a clear path.

"Do it, fucking do it. I didn't hurt her." He couldn't keep the sob from bubbling up. He slid off the chair, the memory from his apartment clicking. "Who hurt her?"

Amar had never seen him cry, Four wasn't a good actor and he certainly wore every sign of distress Amar had trained himself to see. He unlocked the cuffs quicker than putting out a fire.

"Where is she?"

"She's safe." Amar paused, "Who hurt her?"

"I don't know." Four hugged his knees to his chest. "How do you know she was—?" He couldn't say the word.

"It's all over her landscape."

"She's um, she's got a fear of… being intimate." Four blushed a little, feeling stupid for his reaction.

"No, it's nothing like her landscape before." Amar shook his head. "I watched the playback last night to prep."

"Who hurt her? Anyone come to mind?" Amar repeated.

"I don't know. We haven't talked about the time between."

"How do we find out?" Amar prompted.

"Caleb."

Caleb gave it up easily, with a disgusted face. A quick call to Johanna confirmed Matthew was in the Bureau, no convenient trip to Chicago planned. Zeke was an easy recruit for a trip out of town, Four didn't have to give him the details. He asked and his friend didn't hesitate.

"Four!" Matthew greeted, happy and genial. "I was surprised to see you on my calendar."

Four shut the door behind him. Zeke and Amar waited on either side, ready to stop anyone that came to interrupt.

"Matthew." Four answered coldly.

"How is Tris, do you know? It's been a while since I've checked in on her." Matthew dug with a smirk, easily assuming jealousy.

Silence and his slow approach was more menacing than taunts. Four flexed his hands and rolled his fingers into fists.

Matthew blanched and moved out from behind his desk, butting a couch between them. "You two back together?"

Four stepped closer, blocking him from the exit. Matthew stepped back, herded to a corner and stammering. "You two weren't together. It's not like she cheated."

Four was an arm's length away when he gripped the lapel of Matthew's jacket. Four look at his knuckles around the blue fabric, testing his grip with a tug.

"Don't do anything rash, okay? I mean, we didn't do anything wrong."

"Do you like being held down?" Four asked, pushing him against the wall, holding him.

A switch flipped behind Matthew's expression, he smiled. "Boy, did she love it. Came back for seconds."

If Matthew thought Four would dissolve with his taunts, it was a gross miscalculation.

Zeke looked nervously at Amar having expected to hear yelling or something from inside. Then gave a nod of acceptance when the thumps started sounding.

"What he do?" Zeke whispered. The entire ride up had been a stagnant silence he wouldn't break.

"He hurt Tris." Amar offered.

Zeke listened to the satisfying thumbs, counting each landed blow. Around fifteen he was starting to loose his cool listening to the violent pounding going on inside.

"Are we going to let him kill him?"

"Probably shouldn't. Thought his hands would wear out by now." Amar popped open the door and Zeke slipped in.

Four had Matthew on the floor, rhythmically but slowly landing blows to his chest and face while he heaved for breath, sobbing. Zeke wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him up. Four lashed out a final kick before stepping away.

Zeke slipped off his shirts and separated his tank top out. They ignored Matthew's moans while Zeke made sure the splatter on Four's neck and face was wiped as clean as possible.

"So?"

"What?" Four sounded hoarse.

"What he do?"

"He raped her." Four's eyes squinted and he let out sound that Zeke only knew as anguish. He took big gulps and collected himself. Zeke kept an arm on him so he couldn't retreat back to Matthew.

"Surprised he's breathing." Zeke nodded at Four, assuring him that he looked alright then turned him around and pulled him out the door.


	49. Chapter 49: A Gift, two ways

**Can you tell I'm stalling? I have chapters nearly ready, but life's sort of slowed things down on the editing side. So... I have 100,000 words of scenes and chapters in my "unused" folder. Many of them are 2nd or 3rd looks at a scene, and then some of them are full branches that had to be abandoned due to one or two decisions.**

**TL;DR: **These take place after Four's sent to the fence and without the messiness on the train. This was written two ways and there's a lot of overlap. There is short intro 1 and then short intro 2 and then the finish out piece that was common to both.

In order to use the first of these two scenes a few things would have had to have been different. First, Four's trip to the fence for beating Matthew would have been kept from Tris. Second, some other incident that drove home how they couldn't spend time together would have had to have happened. Something like Tris innocently wanting to hold his hand and Four shouting at her for not taking it seriously. Something that would have made her extremely anxious about being alone with him.

The second version, she would have been aware of why Four went to the fence as punishment. It's obvious that I tried re-working it to still use it.

Instead, you got a trial that Tris had to participate in and a Tris that was pissed off that he got involved and the combination with withdrawal symptoms that set off her tirade on the train.

* * *

1st Front End to the Scene:

George is usually pretty quiet and not normally a smiling person. Since coming back, he wears a confused look of pain like he can't believe it still hurts, that it will always hurt. But he came back for Amar and he dutifully placated his partner's more gregarious tendencies like hosting dinner every Sunday. It was at a point that he felt obligated to do so even when Amar was away.

Even so, Four could tell this Sunday was different. George was grinning at him most of the day like he's heard a good joke at his expense. In the hallway on the way to Harrison's security meeting. In line at lunch. When Four jostled with him playing soccer. It was infuriating. No matter how many times he threatened him or tries to drag it out of him, the only response he got was, "You'll see at dinner."

Without the expansive personality of Amar to fill the kitchen, the apartment seemed silent from the other side of the door. Four patiently waited, expecting to hear giggles or further smug jokes as soon as the door opened. But it was just George, still grinning.

"Okay? Where is everyone?"

"Small group today." George stated, hustling him in and handing him a knife for cutting potatoes. "In fact, just three of us."

"Oh? Who else?" Four said, weary and contemplating if it would be impolite to bow out. He could handle a group where he didn't have to carry a conversation the whole time. But George was just as quiet as him, and that didn't bode well for a comfortable evening.

"Tris." George bites his lips, excited and expectant, bouncing a little.

"Really?" Four swallowed nervously. He hadn't been with her in any semblance of privacy since that first week. He'd been living life through camera lenses and from across the expanse of the training room.

"Yeah, I figured you should celebrate together."

"Celebrate what?"

"She passed the loyalty test."

Four brightened, relaxed his shoulders then wondered if she had to cheat and brought back all the nerves again.

"Come on, that's a big thing." George goaded, elbowing him. "So I asked her to come over, have dinner, banished the rest of the folks that asked and here you two will be, in about an hour, having dinner alone. And." George took off quickly down the hall begging Four to follow him with his outstretched hand. "If you're so inclined…"

He opened the door to the spare room, the room Four has slept in on more than one occasion when his apartment was overrun by drunk and obnoxious people. But it looks different.

George has carefully made the bed so it looked like an advertisement, the pillows layered and the covers turned over at the top in contrast to the sheets. A fresh bunch of the late spring flowers in a vase on the side table. And, somewhat garishly presented, three condoms staggered orange, black, orange on the table top.

Four quickly brushed the packages into the drawer and turned around red faced, eyes pinched shut. "We can't be alone. Harrison will kick us both out."

"Harrison won't know. I short circuited the cameras is section three, nothing works between here and Ro's, no one will know until you start your shift tomorrow. Better, no one will know when I slip out. And… and… this alarm, it goes off thirty minutes before the last train." George grinned.

"Why?" Four looked at him confused.

"So she doesn't miss it."

"Why would you do this for me? For us?"

"Because I know what it feels like — wanting something so bad and never getting it, being reminded everyday how it's out of reach. And I'm a bit of a romantic." He clapped him on the shoulder and headed back to the kitchen.

If he cut off his own finger, he probably wouldn't notice he's so distracted by what he's going to say, do, get from tonight. He's barely said more than one word at a time to her in weeks, it was a lot of distance to make up. He was also battling the urge to rub one out in the bathroom so he could be in better control, because there's a pressure in him that has been seeking her out in his dreams and his fantasies. The three packets flashing in the back of his mind.

George gave him instructions on when to pull out the game hen from the oven, how to carve it and wished him luck. Four was alone, terrified, and he started to feel like he'd rather puke than eat. So he paced back and forth nibbling on the callouses on his knuckles and trying not to hyperventilate.

Her knock sounded as hesitant as his, maybe softer and less even. He nearly swallows his tongue and coughed on spittle that didn't make it down his throat. He doesn't know if his face is redder due to choking himself or the embarrassment of answering the door looking like he's dying.

She looked at him uneasy, concerned. She peaked behind him and then froze, realizing he was alone.

"I can come back when others get here. I know the rules." She said quickly, turning.

"Tris, no, come in." He grabbed her elbow, still trying to clear his wind pipe. She resists him, but he's stronger, shutting the door behind her. It's the first time he's touched her in a month and the shock of it repels his hand.

"Are you okay?" She asked, still hovering by the door, clutching her training bag tightly, ready to leave at any second.

"Yeah." He confirmed, finally taking a deep breath and bringing oxygen into his lungs. The beep of the timer was a thankful distraction.

"Sit." He partially commanded, trying to remember how George said he should cut the meat and make it look a little fancy before he finally gave up and plopped a helping of potatoes next to the butchered pieces of bird.

"Where's George?" She stepped up behind a chair.

"Out." He tried to balance the plates on one arm and grab the glasses with the other. The task taking all his concentration.

Her stomach fluttered nervously, "I should really go, you know, so you don't get in trouble."

"Tris, sit down." He stated calmly, but firmly.

She sat on the edge of the chair, gripping the seat as he set the food down. When he had a chance to sit himself and look up at her, he finally noted her shallow quick breaths, the painful pinch that held her eyes shut and the tear streak that curled down her cheek and under her chin.

"What's wrong?" He combed through a thousand possibilities in his mind until one was plucked front and center: she'd met someone else. He shifted limply to the chair next to her, instead of where he'd placed his food.

"I guess I failed, right?" She squeaked. "I'm out and this is the consolation. One last meal?"

"No." He took her hand, "No, you didn't fail."

"So I'm not who you want?" She finally looked at him.

"Tris, I… um. Why would you say that?"

She jerked her hand out of his, and pulled away from him. "Is he here? Are there cameras in the corner? You just want one kiss or one touch so that he has his evidence?" She started to get angry. "Least you could do is do it yourself, not hide behind him."

"Tris, stop. There's no cameras, there's no one here but us."

"Exactly." She started to stand, he grabbed her wrists and stood with her, wrapping her up tightly.

"Tris, stop." He couldn't think of anything else to say, he held firm around her and felt the sting of her fists against his sides until she came to rest in sobs.

"I tried so hard."

"You're doing amazing."

"But it was never going to be enough, was it?"

"Tris, I'm not breaking up with you!" He held her face, with a chuckle, "This is a date."

* * *

2nd Option for the front end:

George is usually pretty quiet and not normally a smiling person. Since coming back, he wears a confused look of pain like he can't believe it still hurts, that it will always hurt. But he came back for Amar and he dutifully placated his partner's more gregarious tendencies like hosting dinner every Sunday. It was at a point that he felt obligated to do so even when Amar was away.

Even so, Four could tell this Sunday was different. George was grinning at him most of the day like he's heard a good joke at his expense. In the hallway on the way to Harrison's security meeting. In line at lunch. When Four jostled with him playing soccer. It was infuriating. No matter how many times he threatened him or tries to drag it out of him, the only response he got was, "You'll see at dinner."

Without the expansive personality of Amar to fill the kitchen, the apartment seemed silent from the other side of the door. Four patiently waited, expecting to hear giggles or further smug jokes as soon as the door opened. But it was just George, still grinning.

"Okay? Where is everyone?"

"Small group today." George stated, hustling him in and handing him a knife for cutting potatoes. "In fact, just three of us."

"Oh? Who else?" Four said, weary and contemplating if it would be impolite to bow out. He could handle a group where he didn't have to carry a conversation the whole time. But George was just as quiet as him, and that didn't bode well for a comfortable evening.

"Tris." George bites his lips, excited and expectant, bouncing a little.

"Really?" Four swallowed nervously. He hadn't been with her in any semblance of privacy since that first week. He'd been living life through camera lenses and from across the expanse of the training room.

"Yeah, I figured you should celebrate together."

"Celebrate what?"

"She passed the loyalty test."

Four brightened, relaxed his shoulders then wondered if she had to cheat and brought back all the nerves again.

"Come on, that's a big thing." George goaded, elbowing him. "So I asked her to come over, have dinner, banished the rest of the folks that asked and here you two will be, in about an hour, having dinner alone. And." George took off quickly down the hall begging Four to follow him with his outstretched hand. "If you're so inclined…"

He opened the door to the spare room, the room Four has slept in on more than one occasion when his apartment was overrun by drunk and obnoxious people. But it looks different.

George has carefully made the bed so it looked like an advertisement, the pillows layered and the covers turned over at the top in contrast to the sheets. A fresh bunch of the late spring flowers in a vase on the side table. And, somewhat garishly presented, three condoms staggered orange, black, orange on the table top.

Four quickly brushed the packages into the drawer and turned around red faced, eyes pinched shut. "We can't be alone. Harrison will kick us both out."

"Harrison won't know. I short circuited the cameras in section three, nothing works between here and Ro's, no one will know until you start your shift tomorrow. Better, no one will know when I slip out. And… and… this alarm, it goes off thirty minutes before the last train." George grinned.

"Why?" Four looked at him confused.

"So she doesn't miss it."

"No. Why would you do this for me? For us?"

"Because I know what it feels like — wanting something so bad and never getting it, being reminded everyday how it's out of reach. And I'm a bit of a romantic." He clapped him on the shoulder and headed back to the kitchen.

If he cut off his own finger, he probably wouldn't notice he's so distracted by what he's going to say, do, get from tonight. He's barely said more than one word at a time to her in weeks, it was a lot of distance to make up. She might not want anything to do with him, she might be too afraid of being alone.

George gave him instructions on when to pull out the game hen from the oven, how to carve it and wished him luck. Four was alone, terrified, and he started to feel like he'd rather puke than eat. So he paced back and forth nibbling on the callouses on his knuckles and trying not to hyperventilate.

Her knock sounded as hesitant as his, maybe softer and less even. He nearly swallowed his tongue and coughed on spittle that didn't make it down his throat. He didn't know if his face is redder due to choking himself or the embarrassment of answering the door looking like he's dying.

She looked at him uneasy, concerned. She peaked behind him and then froze, realizing he was alone.

"I can come back when others get here. I know the rules." She said quickly, turning.

"Tris, no one else is coming." He grabbed her elbow. She resists him, and he dropped his grip immediately, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have touched you. You don't have to if you don't want to, I'll understand."

"Are you okay?" She asked, still hovering by the door, clutching her training bag tightly, ready to leave at any second.

"Yeah. Are you?" He finally took a deep breath when she stepped over the threshold.

"Sit." He partially commanded, on his way to answer the timer on the stove. She took her position while he tried to remember how George said he should cut the meat and make it look a little fancy before he finally gave up and plopped a helping of potatoes next to the butchered pieces of bird.

"Where's George?" She rocked side to side.

"Out." He tried to balance the plates on one arm and grab the glasses with the other. The task taking all his concentration.

Her stomach fluttered nervously, and she stood up. "I should really go, you know, so you don't get in trouble."

"Tris, sit down. It's okay." He stated calmly, but firmly.

She sat on the edge of the chair, gripping the seat as he set the food down. When he had a chance to sit himself and look up at her, he finally noted her shallow quick breaths, the painful pinch that held her eyes shut and the tear streak that curled down her cheek and under her chin.

"What's wrong? I didn't know he was setting this up, either. I just. You stay and eat and I'll clean up and give you space."

"I guess I failed, right?" She squeaked. "I'm out and this is the consolation. One last meal?"

"No." He took her hand, carefully, loosely, "No, you didn't fail."

"So why break the rules? Why throw it away?" She finally looked at him.

"Tris, I… um. Why would you say that? You're doing amazing. You passed the loyalty check."

"Really?"

"Yeah, George thought we should celebrate together. I mean, I get that I scare you and being alone with me might not be the best approach. But he didn't know."

"I'm not scared of you." She corrected, "Not right now, anyways. I've missed you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Of course I have." She said with an accusing tone.

"Last I heard from you, you wanted me to fuck off." He defended.

"That." She took a deep breath, " That was weeks ago and I've spent a lot of time processing what happened."

* * *

Both of the above lead into a common end to the scene:

He kissed her forehead, then her temple. He held her face between his hands, knowing they wouldn't get much time alone together, he couldn't help himself. The gentle pinch of her lips gripping onto his was as electric as he remembered. Tobias had convinced himself that his memories were false, that no kiss could ever feel like it both gave and took life at the same time. But it was every bit as pungent.

Her sniffling brought them both back to the present, and he couldn't help but laugh at how wet his hands were from her tears and how she shook against him.

"A date?"

"Yeah, a date." He pulled his shirt up to wipe her cheeks and he let out a sigh when her hands landed on the flat of his stomach.

"What about Harrison?"

"George took care of it." He dismissed. "Now, will you sit and eat with me?"

"Okay."

The utensils shook when she took them up. Defeat is the only ugly look he's ever seen on her, probably because it reflects the affects of his inner monster right back at him. Its the only time she seems to shrink — to be smaller than herself. When she fits in her skeleton and even retracts. It hurts that he has that power over her. Its worse when he can't backpedal out of it, when it lingers like a scab. He had neglected her and she was still there, trying but not believing.

"You passed the loyalty check." It was the only thing he could think of saying that might signal to her that he was telling the truth.

"I did?" She sounded surprised.

"They didn't tell you?"

"No. They kind of rushed me out to get someone else in."

"And your marks are getting better on drills." He offered.

Her eyes widened and the edges of her lips curled up. "You looked at my file?"

"Everyday. I go over it with Zeke, we strategize, set a plan for the next time. I've been there every step of the way." He smiled.

"But, where were you go for the last three weeks?"

"I got busy." He chose to push food in rather than words out.

"With what?" her eyes hardened.

"How are your landscapes?" She stiffened, so he added, "Amar doesn't let me peak."

"Hard." She sighed, pushing the food on her plate.

"Still six?"

"Don't know, we only just started." She put a tentative string of muscle up to her lips.

"Really?" It was the first obvious lie she told, but given the personal nature of fears, he wasn't ready to judge her too harshly.

"Yeah. I was taking something — for my shoulder — that would have gotten in the way of the serums."

Another lie, not about taking something, but it wasn't for her shoulder. He decided to let it slide if it meant she'd come around to smile at him.

"You make this?" she asked, chewing with a smile.

He chuckled, "Even I can't lie that well. George made it."

"It's delicious."

"I'll let him know."

"Get the recipe." She gave him a little smile.

"So, how's working with Zeke?"

"He's okay." He can't read her, she's too transfixed on her next mouthful.

Tobias sucked a string of meat out of his teeth, "Does he push you?"

"Not like you did." She let out a snicker, "He's actually really nice."

"Is it better? Training with someone else?"

"It's different." She stated diplomatically, but it stung.

They silently eat, glancing up at each other and letting embarrassed grins punctuate their meal until she pushes her plate away.

"How long do we have?" She asked, starting to take her plate up to the sink.

"Until the last train." He intercepted her with an arm around her stomach and pulled the plate out of her hands and onto the counter. "I'll clean up later."

"What do you want to do?" She asked, still stiff in his arms.

"Can we just…" He ran his hands up her sides and pulled her arms around his shoulders, feeling her solid body under his fingertips and then between his elbows and against him. He sighed into her ear when she edged up onto her tip toes to spare her arms from hanging on him.

"Just this?" He liked how her voice vibrated into his collar bone.

"Some of this." He kissed her temple.

"And this." He traced her spine with his fingers, letting her lean back and look up at him. She still looked uncertain.

"Oh and…" He pulled gently on her lips. His heart surged.

He moved her backwards, and she fought a little. Together they were a fluid tangle of limbs and lips crashing in a heap on the couch. Tris got twisted up on his lap, pecking soft kisses at his cheek and his throat. Becoming suddenly still when his hand pushed up her shirt.

"What happened to keeping calm?" She panted with a giggle.

"Meh." He shrugged, "Come here." He kept his arm around her waist, reluctant to let her go. He wondered if she could feel the nervous thrum of his stomach when he pushed open the bedroom door.

It should have felt like a gift, but receiving presents wasn't something either one was practiced at. It was strange and straining, confusing. Tobias stared at her while she examined the flowers, the comforter, the soft texture of the sheets. He held himself and contemplated how much of this wall, his armor, should or can fall to the wayside. Even though it seemed like a good idea after they spent twenty minutes on the couch, he wasn't certain he was actually ready.

Tris balked when she saw him watching her want so clearly present in his eyes. Sex was sequestered among miserable memories, lies, pain. She much preferred the kissing and the holding that they were doing on the couch. She let the light of excitement wane, looking for any excuse to leave before he could chuck his better judgment. But he was already letting the comfort of her call him in.

He wasn't exactly hoping for sex, but it wasn't far from his mind. Mainly, his legs were falling asleep with the way her body pressed on his circulation.

Tris hesitated, looked up at him and saw the grin sweep across his face. She thought he was different, but under it all he was a teen-aged boy. She chastized herself for thinking he was some how different.

She dropped her chin to her chest, resigning and stepped up to the side of the bed. She lied to herself: if he was happy she'd be happy. She sunk onto the edge of the bed, preparing herself to be molested much like at the doctor's office.

"Tris? What's wrong?"

"Can I keep my shirt on?" She asked, meekly.

He didn't think about it, how this could be too fast or too much. To him rape was violent force and shattering aggression and that he could avoid, always. Tris was quiet and soft, submitting to being broken again like she didn't deserve to be whole. If he wanted her, she'd let him take her; but she wasn't offering herself.

He wished he could beat Matthew bloody all over. He had to calm himself, staring at her, not sure how to navigate terrain he never knew existed and it made it worse.

She chewed her lip. Taking his silence as disapproval she pulled up the hem of her shirt in defeat and pressed him into motion at the same time.

"Tris, you don't have to do anything."

"I know." She lied, slowly pulling the cloth over her arm. He had to physically pull it from her hands and back down.

"I don't want this. I just thought — I thought you might be sore." He stammered, because he was making it up on the spot and cursing himself for being so stupid. He should have left her on the couch.

She let him pull her shirt back down, and was on the verge of tears. She ignored the press of his hands on her hips, his arms on her thighs.

"Not like this." He assured. "Not tonight."

"You don't want me." She stated.

"Tris, I want you, but it's just… the rules, you know. I don't want us to get careless." It wasn't horribly far from the truth.

"Can I take your shoes off?" He asked, carefully shifting onto his knees in front of her.

She nodded, again weakly and watched his hands on her laces. He pulled her boots off and set them to the side, took her right foot in his hands and began to ply the bones and cartilage.

"Is this okay?"

"Yeah." She smiled small, still waiting for the flip side of his request.

He moved to her other foot, then worked up her calf feeling the flex of her leg when he moved her ankle. He stopped just above the knee, where he always ached after climbing.

"Lay down on your stomach." He tried to make it sound like a question, but the flinch on her face told him he missed.

He took a heavy breath before touching the small of her back, working up under her shirt. He'd never given a message before, he only knew what he liked from the few times Lauren liquored him up. He worried he was pressing too softly then too hard or that the rough of his hands were scratching her.

She didn't seem to breath until he sunk into the muscles just below her shoulder blades. Tobias couldn't ignore the throb in his pants when her low moan escaped the pillows. Reluctantly, he had to pull his hand out of her shirt to move higher.

"Is this okay? Touching your shoulder like this?" He asked, suddenly aware of the scare tissue bubbled up under the cotton of her shirt.

"Yeah, just not hard." She confirmed, and she let out a shaky breath.

"What do you want to talk about?" He asked.

"Where were you?"

She pressed her face into the pillows and focused on his touch. When he shuffled over her and his knee landed between her's she let out another telling moan.

He debated. Honesty was important, but so was the confidentiality around fears. He looked at the clock and didn't want to spoil the next hour with a fight.

"Just busy, you know faction crap."

"What kind of crap?"

"Boring crap."

"Try me."

"Fuck, Tris." He groaned, she twisted to look up at him.

"Why won't anyone tell me?" Then her eyes went wide, and she started to push out from under him. "What's her name?" She accused.

"I wasn't seeing a girl." He rolled his eyes, and pulled her into him.

She pushed at his grip, trying to peel his arms off, "Was it the one in Milwaukee? Is that where you went?"

"I didn't go anywhere, I was here the whole time."

"You quit your job."

"I went on leave."

"What for?" She kicked him in the shin, and he relented, letting her go.

"I got in a fight, okay? Harrison put me in the pen for four weeks." He finally admitted, turning red.

She blinked back at him, then paused, "You attacked Matthew?"

Running his tongue over his teeth was his only response.

"Oh my God. Is this how it's going to be? I sleep with someone you brutalize them? What happens if I talk to someone, you going to interrogate them?"

"It wasn't like that." He looked at the fresh pink skin where the scabs had only just fallen off. "He hurt you. I wasn't going to let him hurt anyone else."

"He never hurt me."

"Your landscape says otherwise." He shot back before he fully thought it through.

"Who told you?" She was breathless, her hands shaking.

"File landed on my desk." He lied.

"I thought we weren't supposed to lie anymore." Her jaw was trembling.

* * *

**Chapters to Something New** are right around the corner. Until then, I'll continue to empty out the unused scenes that aren't spoilers. One of the comments said it was interesting to peek into how I write. If you actually want to know _how_ I do it, let me know and I can put together some tumblr posts or something.


	50. Chapter 50: Rafael makes a decision

**From when Rafael made the decision to go to Amity. It shows that he was already getting closer with Lauren.**

* * *

Four pulled a dusty map off the top of the filing cabinet, the green glow of the screens the only illumination to search the pages. In his most careful, scrawling script, he had marked the name of each camera at each location over the years, as he discovered them and confirmed them. Even he had a hard time telling sevens and ones apart and he had to type each four also as a nine. With hand writing like his, careful wasn't ever good enough.

He located the west house and the few cameras in the area. And copied the camera identifiers onto a note pad, calling up the footage from each and scanned hour by hour. The cameras were old, not the priority for the security of the pre-war city. None of them had the night vision capability of the city center.

He moved to the next camera. And the story was similar, hours of nothing. The next, the next, the next. He leaned back, the pops domino-ed up his spine when he arched.

"Fuck, that's not right."

Four spun around and onto his feet in seconds. Rafael was leaning against the open door to the control room, a plate in his hand. He'd probably been there for less than a minute, Rafael wasn't patient enough to just stand around.

"Jumpy?" He asked, coming in and setting two sandwiches down on the small desk.

"You scared the shit out of me. You shouldn't be in here."

It was stupid to have the door open, anyone could come in, member or not, friend or not. He quickly tapped a few keys to send the monitors blank and tucked the map book under the desk.

"Yeah, yeah, I thought you might need something to eat. And a reminder about training."

Four looked at his watch, five hours he'd sat flipping through the channels, no breaks, no conversation, just obsessively looking pixel by pixel. The phosephenes bounced around under his lids while he rubbed life back into each eye.

"Thank you." He said simply, his gratitude punctuated by a loud gurgle.

"So, what are you doing?" Rafael asks playfully.

"Nothing, just my job."

"Which one, the computers and stuff?"

Four bit into the soft bread and through the tangy, honey ham. The glob of mustard assaulting his tongue in contrast. He'd have preferred a little less of the vinegar tinge, but he was eager to end the sudden ache. Rafael picked at the notes.

"Gibberish." He laughed, setting it back down, "Zeke was looking for you in the training room, something about picking a fight before you're healed up."

"Yeah, I'll be down there in a bit." He murmured. "You enjoying it? Still thinking about it?"

"Yeah, it's fun. I've never learned to fight, you know, not like officially. It's a little different when it's just you and one other person, easier than in a bar."

"That's true, but not as much fun." Four took another bite.

"Amar has the aptitude test all set up. He said he had to submit me to the government registry or something." He shrugged, "When I get back from Amity, it's all set."

"Are you sure? Once you take the test, they'll expect you to make a decision."

"I'll choose Dauntless." He says automatically.

"You don't even know your options."

"Amar said —"

"He's Dauntless born, he only knows two ways to live and only one of them is inside the fence." He snapped, tired of Amar's constant bandwagon. Rafael needed to employ some caution.

"I guess so." He reflected quietly.

"Come to the government center, I'll see if I can get you out to visit all of the factions, at least once."

"I'm leaving for Amity pretty soon." He cast off the offer.

"Oh? Did they come back with specifics?"

"Yeah, the work office said a couple others are going from here, so I'm tagging along."

"Who else?"

"Lauren, Stew, maybe a few others."

Four didn't like the idea of Lauren leaving, even if it was temporary. She was good for an escape from his thoughts for a few nights a week. But she could keep Rafael out of trouble.

"You sure about Lauren?"

"Yeah, some doctor's orders or something. Sunshine, hard work, and this tea, I guess, that supposed to stop dreams?"

Four nodded, letting the information sink in. He'd been selfishly bantering to Lauren like nothing had happened, ignoring what happened to her. He'd become aware that depression, alcoholism, and anxiety was terrorizing the Dauntless. He didn't fully realize it effected his friends. It settled into his gut, an additional weight to everything he carried.

"Maybe it's best." Four admitted through a mouthful.

"So, you coming to bed tonight?" Four couldn't keep from laughing, the suggestive manner Rafael used shattered any idea of getting focused again.

"Yeah, just keep your hands to yourself, okay?"

"The hands want what the hands want." Rafael chided, "See you in the training room." He added as a last reminder before stepping out.


	51. Chapter 51: Resigned

**I was pulling pieces out of my unused folder for some "fun" in the up coming chapters and I stumbled on this little two-part concept piece. Remember way back before Tris did her sims and after Harrison put the kibosh on PDA? Well, I contemplated how much of an asshole Four would be if he still harbored a bit of resentment for their breakup and was determined not to get pinched for showing any sentiment. It's right when Christina comes back from the Bureau. It was a little harsh and I cringe to read it... enjoy.**

* * *

"Hey, Tris!" Christina called from inside the little shelter outside the platform.

"Hey." She tried to be genuine, but the combination of her exhaustion and his mood pasted a thick fake grin on her face.

"What's up with you?" Christina prodded, passing Tris two of her bags to carry.

"Nothing. Just tired." Tris lied.

"Oh, no." She shook her head, "You're going to tell me all about it."

They had her bags drug up to the apartment after packing the tiny elevator to capacity. The hilarity of Christina balancing on her suitcase cracked a genuine laugh from Tris. She was already feeling more herself when they had them piled in Tris' room and the kettle on the stove.

Christina pulled out a chair, forcing Tris down on the seat and began kneading into her shoulders. The strangeness of the touch took a few minutes to overcome, but the relaxing motion and the silence soon had her letting out a deep breath.

"Now, what's going on?"

"Oh, Four." She groaned.

"What about him?"

"I don't think he wants me in Dauntless." She admitted, rolling her muscles after Christina's hands stopped.

"What do you mean? I thought your letter said things were back on track."

"I thought they were. I mean, we agreed that if I came back, we could get back together. But outside of that first week, he's been… I don't know…. _Four_, I guess."

"You were expecting someone else?"

"I was expecting Tobias."

Christina raised an eyebrow, pulling mugs down from the cupboard.

"You don't know him like I do… or did." Tris commented, standing to prepare something for dinner.

"What did you expect? He's not going to turn into a teddy bear over night."

"I expected him to talk to me. Tell me things. But he didn't even tell me he got his membership back."

"Wow." Christina was careful to examine her. "What changed, do you think?"

"I don't think he wants me anymore. Like I'm trash now."

"What?"

"He knows about Matthew. I shouldn't have told him." She dabbed her sleeve quickly across her cheek and pulled out left over pasta.

"Sleeping with one guy doesn't make you a slut."

"Does in Abnegation." She divided the noodles between two bowls.

"When did you tell him?"

"When he made me dinner."

"He made you dinner? And you're still alive?" Christina tried to joke, but soon offered an apologetic smirk.

Tris filled her in - dinner, Amity, and, briefly, the ride back on the truck.

"And how exactly does turning your neck into a buffet make you think he doesn't want you?"

"That was then, now all he does is yell at me, tell me I have to do better… order me around. And he _escorts _me, like impersonal, quiet. He wouldn't even shake my hand today."

"Ouch."

"I'm done. If he's doing this just to punish me, then I'm done. I'm punished."

"No!" Christina moaned, "I just got back, we're going to have an apartment together!"

"I might have to start watching my back by the chasm, the way he's treating me."

"It's got to just be that instructor side of him. Or he doesn't want to get hurt again. When you're through the loyalty check, he'll soften. You said he didn't really until stage 2 right?"

"Right."

"So, when you've got one thing behind you, he'll come around. Just do it, show him you're staying."

"You'll see on Wednesday. He hates me." She set the bowls in the microwave and pressed the numbers to send dinner spinning.

Wednesday, when he dismissed them, Tris was nearing tears. She hastily pushed past other members to the showers. Christina gawked at Four.

"You're dismissed." He said again.

"Got a second?" Christina grabbed his elbow and jerked him to the side away from the other groups.

"Careful how you grab me." He warned, pulling out of her grip.

"You're about to lose her."

"What?"

"She's about to quit."

He squinted and groaned, "I knew it."

"She's about to quit, because that's what she thinks you want." Christina punched him.

"What? No." He retorted, shocked.

"Yes, you're being an asshole."

"I'm being an instructor."

"You weren't ever this much of an asshole. She thinks this is all just a way to punish her, to break her, to humiliate her. And I convinced her that she was being too sensitive. But you are systematically pushing her out of this faction." She warned.

"Look, someone's watching us — every little move — and they're looking for any reason to throw us both out."

"Well, you're doing their job for them."

He stamped his feet and crossed his arms, "I can't be with her if she's not a member."

"You can talk to her. Encourage her. Tell her you want her here. But at this point, I don't know if she'll believe you. So you better think of something down right cuddly to say or you're out a girlfriend and I'm out a roommate." She stepped away to tend to Tris.

Tris was showered and dressed, quickly shoving her things into her bag and pulling on her shoes.

"You okay? I'm going to try and make this next train." Tris checked with Christina, wiping an errant tear with her palm.

"Slow down."

"I gotta get out of here." Tris tried to get past her, but Christina's arms were longer and she didn't feel like fighting.

"He wants you here." She stated.

"Mmhmm." Tris placated.

"He does. He said someone's watching you two."

"Yep, everyone is watching us. We're so interesting." She rolled her eyes, pushing past her.

Four was leaning against the wall just outside, she barely glanced at him before hurrying away like he might yell at her, again, for dawdling.

"Tris, wait." He trotted after her, but she kept her steady pace, "Will you wait?"

"I have a train to catch."

"Get the next one." He barked at her, she moved faster. He had to reach out and grip her elbow. She whirled on him, crushing her hand square into the soft tissue of his throat.

"Don't touch me." She hissed, watching him stagger into the wall, gripping his neck and gasping.

"I deserve that." He choked, struggling to catch back up to her.

He didn't catch her until she was at the door, this time he was ready to block her shot, pushing her against the wall and pinning her. She was crying, refusing to look at him, squirming and stomping at his toes.

"Tris, stop and talk to me." He demanded, loosening his hold when she stopped struggling, then he pulled her rougher than he wanted, to a side hallway where he knew there was a small blind spot.

"I'm done, you win." She quaked. "You can slip the requests under the door, if you want. And when I see you in the hallway, I'll turn the other direction. What ever you want, just let me go."

"I want you here." He insisted, she tried to step around him, he blocked her way knowing at least one of them was on camera, he didn't dare try to hug her.

"Hasn't this been enough? Do I have to do more?" She asked.

"Just… Don't leave." He forced out, struggling with what he wanted to tell her: that he forgave her, that he'd never hurt her, that he'd never leave her; but all that felt too close to lies to squeeze past his lips. He couldn't say he wanted her if he didn't know for certain that she wanted him just as much. He declared instead, "What ever this is, I want it. I want to give it a chance."

"You want me broken at the bottom of the chasm."

"Never ever say that." He let his hand slink out and touch her's. She flinched away. He glanced up at the camera, and lowered his voice to just a soft whisper, "I'd kiss you and hold you and make you believe me if I could, but someone's watching us. Someone saw us on the truck and they've been watching ever since." He tried to press the most earnest expression onto his face and she seemed to soften.

"Doesn't mean you have to be a dick all the time."

"I'm not good at this." He admitted, crossing his arms again.

"Get better." She warned, stepping away from him and out to the train.

"Will you be back on Friday?" He asked, she didn't respond.

"Well done." Zeke called from the main hallway, where he and Amar had scampered for a selfish earful.

"Shut up. Can I do anything without someone watching?" Four groaned.

"I thought you had this under control?" Amar asked.

"She's just being overly sensitive." He claimed.

"Is she?" Zeke asked.

"What do you know?" Four pushed past him.

"I know when I talked to her earlier, she didn't know you were a member, again."

"So what?"

"Then she said you stopped talking to her weeks ago."

"I talk to her every day she's here."

"You yell at her." Amar corrected.

"Who's side are you on?"

"I'm on yours, always yours." Amar confirmed.

"I mean, if you want her gone, isn't it easier to just tell her not to come back?" Zeke asked.

"I want her here." Four increased his pace, thinking he'd like to leave them in his dust but knowing they'd pursue him.

"You sure? Doesn't seem like it." Zeke slipped an arm around Four's stomach and pulled him off his path and into a side room.

"What is this?" Four asked, looking at the full room. Lauren and Rafael were back, tan, Rafael's arm casually hung over her shoulder. George next to them, Christina eyed them annoyed and jilted. Janice pursed her lips and rocked back and forth, avoiding his glance. Shauna looked back at him with a patient smirk.

"This, is your intervention." Amar informed him.

"I'm not an alcoholic." He rolled his eyes.

"You're about to fuck it all up, and if you can't see it, we're here to make sure you do." Amar forced him into a chair. "You just have to hear each person out and then you can go."

"Now?"

"Ten minutes." Amar firmly held his shoulders.

"Four, we've been friends since you got here." Lauren started, "But since you came back, it's like you forgot all that time and you're back in square one. I'm tired of hearing about fights, arguments, blowing up at people. And there aren't many folks left in this faction that don't consider you a time bomb. You have to get it under control or you'll lose more than a girl."

He opened his mouth to respond, but Amar squeezed and he shut it.

"I haven't known you as long as the others, but you've been reckless the whole time. There are consequences for everything you do and all the secrets, holding them in, it's like a poison. You gotta find a way to get it out of you." Rafael quickly stated.

Shauna picked at her nails, until Zeke kicked her chair and she finally looked up at him. "I avoid you because there's too many stories about you blowing up at people, not because you're Divergent. I don't want to see you hurt anyone."

"George?" Amar prompted. And Four heard them out. George, Amar, Zeke and Christina focused on him losing Tris.

He couldn't lift his eyes to meet anyone's. He couldn't bare the pressure of their glances. He was squeezed from the room to struggle on his own. To find some way to be better, to be wrong gracefully, to apologize to her, to them, to admit that the damned therapist had given him this weeks before and to contemplate if she was entirely right or if he could still be stubborn.


	52. Chapter 52: Snake Prank expanded

**I cut this along with a few other things because it didn't really add much to the story and I wanted to trim out 3-4k words of filler.**

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Tris hovered behind Christina while she unloaded her backpack in search of something.

"Yes." Christina was determined.

"You can't take something like this back."

"He started it. He knew exactly what would happen." She pushed even deeper, groping around under her clothes.

"And, what are we doing?" The two girls jumped when his voice boomed behind them.

"Nothing." Christina yelped, clasping her bag shut.

He evaluated them from shifty eyes to the backpack in Christina's hands to the white bag on the floor, he repeated, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. There's nothing going on." Tris said as calmly as she could, stepping forward and pushing him around and back.

"Tris?"

"It's nothing, really," she insisted.

"Something," Four persisted, pushing back past her and crossing his arms.

"You're too skinny to be intimidating." Christina rolled her eyes, restarting her hunt in her bag.

"Fine, just don't come griping to me," he dropped his arms and turned around to find something else to do.

"God, sensitive little flower. We're pranking Zeke, okay?" Christina held up the white bag as evidence.

Four's mouth twitched in disgust, "What's in there?"

"Snakes," Tris shrugged with a small smile.

"That's just wrong."

"Zeke put a bunch of dead moths in my jacket pockets. Two can play that game." Christina declared, finally curling her fingers around the small pouch of lock-picks.

He shot a glance at Tris, she just shrugged with acceptance. Christina closed her backpack, pocketed the picks and then opened the top of the bag, a pillowcase, to thrust it at him. A half dozen little snakes were piled on top of each other.

"Don't touch me with those." Four stepped back quickly.

"Not you, too?" Christina pulled out a little Gartner snake and let it dangle out of her hand.

Tris started to reason with her, again, "Christina, you saw him camping. He came out the tent almost naked he was so freaked out."

"Moths. In. My. Jacket!" Christina punctuated each word.

"So, what's your plan?" Four was feeling a little old for pranks but expediting the activity meant more time with Tris.

"Pick his locks and put them in his apartment. Bed, shower, pots and pans…"

"You know he lives with Shauna, right?"

"Casualty of war." Christina was determined.

"And if he doesn't find the snakes? They could die. Come on." Four started down the hall.

"Moths!"

"I know, I know. If you want this to work, you have to make sure he's going to find them. And that means you have to put them in his gear. Plus, everyone on patrol will see."

Four watched the door and distracted a few members while Christina lowered a snake into each of Zeke's boots, his patrol jacket, and even slid a small one into a pocket on his utility belt. Tris did her part in coming up with the placements and then helping with the distraction.

* * *

**In case you missed it, I posted a new story "Can I get a Pikachu". It's... uh... very different from Something New, but people seem to like it. I might make something more out of it, but I'm in the middle of re-writing a lot of SN stuff.  
**


	53. Chapter 53: Story Snippets 31

**I put quite a few together here because almost all of these got used and that just felt stale. **

**In case you missed it... I put out a new meet-cute one shot called "Can I get a Pikachu?" I won't lie. It's fluffy FourTris. Click on my name and go read it.**

**SN Chapter 41 coming soon... I put a post on my Tumblr, I've got some family challenges right now so it'll either be posted in the next week or in several weeks and then Chapter 42 is gonna be delayed a bit.**

* * *

The teasing started with statements so ridiculous she just laughed. But when she repeated it to Zeke, she started to worry. It didn't matter how he insisted Tobias was different. She knew there were other girls, he'd said as much, and she knew she lacked the assets and the insistence to guarantee his attention would remain true. Consistently, she heard: what happens on the fence stays at the fence.

* * *

It was a stupid bet. He knew nothing about the southern fence or the guys he was with, but it seemed safe to assume there would be just as many rabbits. Now he's grimacing as his hair falls and the needle is prepped. His hesitations about looking Dauntless had always been based in not belonging, and now they were making him one of them.

* * *

Her heart was pounding, her breathing fast and jerky, her whole body tense and rigid. The lingering fingers between her thighs gave one last flick before coming to rest on her heaving stomach. It wasn't enough to watch her, he needed to feel her with his lips and taste her on his tongue. When her eyes fell shut, he dipped down to sneak a lick not knowing it would be ten minutes before her hands would let him back up for air.

* * *

As long as his hands are on her, she's real. She can't disappear into his dreams or nightmares. She's concrete and just where he wants her. While the pressure of his fingertips ground her onto his reality, she is similarly rooted like a usurper on a pedistal– worshipped and almost feeling worthy of his affections.

* * *

Soft, mellowed, pussy whipped…. He knows they say it behind his back. It grates on him, irritates him to be thought of as weaker. It makes him want to dominate, prove he's still number one, still a hard ass, still worthy of apprahention. Somehow, she always finds him just when he's about to demonstrate just who he still is, and her smile melts it all away. When she's asking for his attention, winding her arms around him, he is soft and pussy whipped and completely submissive to her, and he wouldn't want that to change.

* * *

She watched him carve the fillets with easy motions, wondering for a moment if this is what he cooked for Marcus or if Marcus ever cooked for him; if he'd ever truly been cared for or if he'd always been on his own with the monster. Her thoughts were sad and invaded by questions she didn't think he'd answer.

* * *

The radio was old and well loved. It was a strange luxury that she could only approach with curiosity. As she turned the dial, Zeke snapped to attention calling for her to twist it back. He pulled her away from the shelf and chuckled when she stood, dumbfounded. His hand snaked over her shoulder and the other on her waist. He guided her and got her giggling out of her stupor and past feeling stupid.

* * *

He's off, like a toddler chasing a toy, fixated, determined, greedy. And like a tired mother, she rolls her eyes and pursues at a distance watching for hazards and accidents waiting to happen. She barely reaches him in time to remind him to keep his hands to himself, hardly gets his attentions back on her before he's following another shiny bauble. She tries to hold him but he's slick with sweat and eager for someone soft, warm, and decidedly not her. And like most girls, this bunch is about to fall all over them selves to fawn over the untouched, innocence that toddles drunkenly towards them.

* * *

She knows this isn't forever. She knows it's part of their agreement. But something feels so right when his arms circle her, hold her, his nose presses into her neck and his feet play with hers. It feels so right that it quickly splits her open and she has to think of anything else for the pain she feels knowing it's just physical for him.

* * *

**As always, I love reading your thoughts. :)**


	54. Chapter 54: Pattern of aggression

**Sorry it's been over a month since I posted anything. I'm working on SN Chapter 42 after a month of stressful life stuff. So, soon. In the mean time, some omitted scenes.**

**A peek back in time to when Four was helping with the factionless. I couldn't get this to really mesh into the scenes I ended up using, so I cut it. But all of this together was referenced in his first session with Melissa.**

* * *

"We're over loaded." Ivan grumbled, leaning on the table while he stretched his legs.

"We don't turn anyone away." Therese reminded him.

"We don't turn away faction rejects." He corrected.

"Who's turning who away?" Four asked, slipping the card into his pocket and taking his seat at the small round table.

"The fringe-people." Ivan sighed, flopping into his chair, "They're coming by the dozen now. They just show up and move in. They took over the rec-center last week."

"Were you using the rec-center?" Four absently flipped through the collated reports.

"No."

"Well then, no harm no foul." Four confirmed. "Where's the central west report? They asked for matches and I didn't see any on the other reports. Did they get any?"

"Four, listen," Ivan implored. "The ones that end up in their own camps, fine, what ever. But they're showing up at the safe houses and demanding rations."

"So, up your rations." He shrugged, "See, Central East got matches, but not West." He showed Therese.

"Don't you get it? They don't belong with us."

Four cocked his head and arched an eyebrow. "The faction of the factionless and you don't want the fringe? Suck it up, order more food."

"They're causing problems."

"Like what?" Four barked, willing him into silence.

There were stacks of reports and orders to be collated together, calculated, compared to the projected provisions available to them. Lists had to be constructed and delivered by noon. There wasn't time to dawdle with paranoia.

"Drunk. High on drugs. They start fights and steal materials. They're like insects swarming. They assaulted members at the west house yesterday."

"I'll inform Dauntless, they'll increase the patrols." He waited to see if the matter was settled, Ivan stewed.

Therese was uncharacteristically quiet. She flipped one page then another. She hummed to herself softly and ignored the strain between Ivan and Four. The obvious disinterest interesting Four more than the grumpy huffs from Ivan.

"You have an opinion?" He asked.

"No." She said shortly.

"You sure?" Four offered her another chance.

"For once, you and I agree." She smiled smugly. "Now, the report for central west." She thumbed out a misplaced sheet. He should have seen it for what it was, the calm before the storm.

* * *

Four flipped a book against the wall with a vicious swipe that stunned the clamoring house leaders into silence.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up. You're all saying exactly the same God damned thing! You need blankets and you need water filters, and you both agree to swap your rations after the delivery. You are literally arguing just to argue."

They looked down bashfully, biting their tongues with each point of his finger.

"I will be there to make sure Charlie gets what's due his house, so we're not going to rearrange the whole damn thing just because he's going to be late." He closed the ledger with a snap. "I'll see you at the delivery."

His foot steps and a hushed cough are the only sounds for the three seconds it takes him to cross the room. When the door shut behind him in the stairwell, the room quietly started to mill and move.

He took an uneasy breath to get his shoulders to drop and started up the stairs to the lobby. He was certain he wasn't being compensated enough for dealing with the hoard, but he finally agreed that keeping them as far away from the other faction leaders was the best policy.

He was half way up to the third floor when Ivan caught up with him.

"Four, I don't think you're taking the fringe threat seriously."

"I said, I would inform Dauntless and we'll increase patrols."

"But the assaults, the drunkenness, they don't belong here."

"They are here, and they're here for good, so get use to it."

"But—"

Four's shoved Ivan against the wall and punched just next to his ear. "Discussion is over!"

Just like magic, one of Johanna's aids was on the way down the stairs and meekly excused herself past him, eying him wearily. He knew this would get reported.

"Fuck, Ivan. Go home, take care of people, give Dauntless a chance to help." He released him, and continued to stomp up the stairs to his next meeting.

* * *

"It was just a wall." He admitted, showing her the fresh bruises.

"This time. Before this, it was just yelling. It seems to be escalating. I need you to be more in control than the group you're helping." Johanna's brow knitted and her arms crossed.

"I know, I just… It won't happen again." He decided against an excuse.


	55. Chapter 55: story snippets 32

They untangled in the night, she to one side, he to the other. She's thankful she can slip out without waking him, until his bewildered expression turn into relief on her return. He sucks her back into him, determined to never lose track of her again.

* * *

She's stuck, staring eye to eye with his other girlfriend. Neither blinks as one guards and the other waits for weakness. One must submit, one must win. Its tense and silent until instinct takes over and her butt hits the ground with a defeated thump of her tail.

* * *

Lectures like this are for children. What she's been doing is childish, but only if you consider the rules she's never broken before. He drones on and on, repeating his disappointment in new and different ways and silencing her every protest. Why did she bother coming back?

* * *

Complete exhaustion. She's not even conscious of how her shoes got off her feet or how she came to be under his blue quilt. But she's there when he sinks onto the mattress just as surprised as she is, wearing the same sagging eyes and a thoughtful smirk.

* * *

It's not like what she did is a secret, but it feels dangerous to tell him. Anyone of the 25 witnesses could make an off handed comment, or outright spill it to him. Part of her doesn't want to say anything so she can explode on him, fight his double standard when he comes accusing. But days go by and he says nothing, she's tense all the time, and the fear in her chest grows as big as his potential over reaction.


	56. Chapter 56: Story Snippets 33

**More Snippets in a week of Omitted updates. Let me know what ya think.  
**

* * *

Its a game. Two steps then he can put his hand on her back for three. Then sixteen until he can grab her hand for four. Its a dangerous game of timing, one that he's practiced each time he's walked this path on his own. And one that gets him teased until his face hurts from blushing.

* * *

He doesn't remember what polite is. He's never imagined adequately what two girls could really do to each other. His naive brain just failed to remember to circulate blood to all his extremities, it was so absorbed by the gentle touches of four slender hands and two flexing tongues. And its all he can do to wet his eyes with the fastest blink…

* * *

Every other time he'd blacked out, he'd been under a spell, completely unable to recall. This time, it was like he was watching someone else, like his landscape, like he'd actually brought Marcus into the room and unleashed him. And for the first time, he was thankful for it.

* * *

If she admitted she was nervous, he'd freeze faster than jello out of a mold. If she gave voice to her rising fear, the panic that beat her heart like the pistons in an engine, he'd stop like he hit a brick wall. But she needs to face it, needs to push into it, even if he gets upset and angry each time she fails. She needs to use him, just this once, not that he seems to understand. So she presses herself against him, encourages him with kisses and hands, each gesture helping him closer to her triggers and her closer to tears. But this is how she was trained to conquer fear.


	57. Chapter 57: Story Snippets 34

**This going to be the last of the week of omitted updates. Hope you enjoyed the surge and it helps make the wait easier. Chapter 42 is a ways off. Thanks for the patience.**

* * *

He never liked seeing her cry. It tore at him, reopened bad memories, made him feel guilty, every time, because he couldn't stop it. He's getting more suspicious each time she initiates, that he's an apparatus to her, an object of her terror that has to be confronted. Like him and small rooms. He feels inanimate and worthless each time he makes her crumple into an inconsolable mess, each time he falls into her orchestrated routine of trying to prove she's okay and her failing.

* * *

The sleeping arrangements were problematic, especially when it started raining and didn't stop for the remaining three days of the lap. The outposts only had the one room and he couldn't sleep in the rain. It was tough to suppress his base instincts to jerk himself off to their eager giggles and hushed whispers, or the slippery sounds of friction. It was mortifying when one reached out and tried to pull him into their tangle of limbs, assuring him that they wouldn't say a word, no one would have to know.

* * *

He's startled to find she's gone when he gets out of the shower. He tries not to draw the parallels, rationalizes that there's no war and no one at risk. The feeling of rejection is the same. The want he feels for her to be truthful is the same. His desire to chase her is not. He's not chasing this time.

* * *

Tris stood across from him, sending chastising and reproachful glances at the obnoxious taunts. She put her hand hesitantly out onto his shoulder, he leaned in, covering her cheek and neck with his rough calloused fingers.

His hands were smaller, but not less powerful or strong. He wasn't as gentle or as careful with her, seemingly to giving her more credit. Even though neither of them felt right about it, the intensity tugged at the tension between them. Like diving into a cold pool, he pulled her to him and touched their lips letting his practiced hands meander down from her chin across her shoulders and, sending chills with each finger tip, down her spine. In the howl of the crowd, they had silence between them before he roughly pushed at her hips and split them apart.


	58. Chapter 58: Abandoned Plot - Kidnappings

**This was an alternate plot starter for way back when Four first went through the truth serum. I think, way back at that time, a lovely reader named Hooda was helping me pick my next steps. So, you probably have her to think for "not another abduction" story. Cheers Hooda!  
**

* * *

Four wasn't aware of moving his feet or being settled into the elevator. He registered the warm, hard pressure of hands on his torso and a shoulder under his armpit.

"What happened to your hand?" Amar tried to take advantage of the serum still slowing his reflexes.

"Finger got cut off."

"Why?"

He pressed the answer back under his tongue and examined the line where the doors met. The solid, straight line was bent and arched just enough in his perception to remind him that he didn't have to answer. Amar stared at him, trying to evaluate the outward appearances of still being under the effects and the unexpected silence that colored Four's face red.

Four shook his head let his body burn off the serum cloudy bit by bit until he was fully feeling his anger towards Amar. "What the fuck?" He asked, a pinched headache forming between his ears until he was convinced there was a ringing squeal to the movement of the elevator.

"Yeah, I know. It wasn't my idea. But you passed." He smiled small and begging forgiveness.

"Fuck you." He shrugged him off, choosing to stand in the corner until the little bell went off and the doors slid open at the third floor, the control room just down the hall.

"Look, all that fun wasn't just for your benefit." Amar started to push him along and down the hall, "It's the bare minimum to get them to approve your access." He waved a band in front of the lock and then handed it to him.

"Yesterday, these came out of the printer in Max's old office, Fiona's been sorting through stuff, she was there when they came out." He put them in front of him. It was solid text words and symbols.

"Where'd it come from?" Four asked while he relaxed into a chair to peruse the patterns that jumped out at him.

"You tell us." Amar pushed the keyboard to him.

"You haven't tried?"

"Some asshole encrypted and passworded the damn system and left for Milwaukee." Amar reminded him.

"Oh, oh my God." He looked at Amar with horror, "You haven't been in the system since I left?" It was his turn to look disapproving. "Database problem my ass." He grumbled.

"How were we supposed to get in?"

"Fucking meatheads." He spat, pulled out the top right drawer and the notebook from within. "I don't know, look for a notebook in the drawer and cut the fucking lock off." He suggested, producing the item, tapping in the code to disarm the latch binding the covers. "I was at a loss for something better, but I didn't think it would hold anyone up for more than a few minutes. More of a joke than anything." He explained, "When I log in, it'll send off emails to a dozen people so they know someone's been in the system." He flipped through the pages and set it in front of Amar so he could see the neatly written password.

"Really?" Amar chastised, "We have to work on your protocols."

"Like I said, basically a joke." He turned the monitor on and found the cursor blinking, "I firewalled us off of the main network. I would have disconnected us entirely, but it would have meant losing the cameras and Tori didn't want to lose our eyes on the outside." He explained then settled his hands on the keys, he found it frustratingly awkward to type without his pinky. It took effort and concentration his head didn't want to give.

In a few minutes he was traipsing through the network looking for logs of activity. Amar watched him intently, like any moment would bring the answer. Four generally preferred to work alone, but his resentment of Amar for the truth serum added to his annoyance with being watched.

"Get out," He snapped.

"Are you sure?"

"Get me a sandwich and some water. I don't need a babysitter."

"Just some manners." Amar couldn't keep himself from responding as he exited to do exactly as he was told.

Four trained his attention on the screen and on securing the location of the print outs. He didn't notice when the sandwich appeared, but by the time he turned to eat it, Amar was gone and so was the daylight. The dots he was connecting were painting a picture of a highly organized and intelligent use of the city-wide network to communicate between both legitimate and pirate portals. The frustrating fact was that all the messages were coded.

He scripted a program to track the known entries and to snipe the coded messages without leaving much of a trace, at least one that they'd have to try to find. His eyes burned each blink and he was parched, pained ready for sleep.

* * *

**Thoughts on that possibility are always welcome**


	59. Chapter 59: A look behing the curtain

**I want to say thanks to everyone for their responses on the last few chapters of Something New. I have gotten so much feedback it's been amazing. So, here's a little deleted scene.**

**Originally planned this around the time that Tris restarts therapy. Her suicidal ideations would have a profound impact on Caleb's own state of mind.**

* * *

Tris's anxiety always kicked in when she passed under the ornate arches at the Candor head quarters that lead to the elevator bank. If she were there for work, she would use the other elevators to go to the head offices. Her therapist was on the third floor down a hallway and on the interior of the building. Some day the lack of light made her mad, others sullen, and on the cold days where the sun wouldn't shine, sheltered.

Caleb surprised her, sitting in a chair just to the right of the coffee table. He was reading a floppy magazine, or journal. Tris couldn't tell which one only that it was a page of text without photos or diagrams. He looked up and smiled politely.

"What are you doing here?"

"I asked Melissa if we could do a family session today."

"You didn't ask me." It was an affront to the strides they had made. They had gotten to the point where he could at least express his disappointments to her in the privacy of their apartment. She wondered where she'd misstepped, how angry she'd made him that he needed help to tell her his disappointments.

"I asked because I need it, not because of you." He apologized and looked back to his magazine to avoid her.

"Oh." She plopped down in the chair next to him to wait, kicking her bag back and forth between her feet. "What about?"

He swallowed, bit his lips together. The uncomfortable silence twisting Tris' body so she was on the edge of the chair facing him. Tears rolled down his cheeks, her hand found his and squeezed. He jerked away, wiping his eyes hastily. The door to the session room opened, diverting words from Tris' mouth back into her throat. A Candor child was blowing his nose into a tissue while Melissa ushered him out.

"Tris, Caleb, why don't you come in and make yourself comfortable." She smiled, ignoring their distressed faces.

Tris hated when the couch felt warm when she sat down. It made the whole thing feel mechanical, a conveyor belt of emotions coming in and out. Caleb sank into the cushions as far away as possible, his arms drawn in over his heart and his back hunched.

"Well, Caleb asked to join us today. Do you want to start?" Melissa prompted.

"I just, it's been eating at me." He mumbled. "That if I'd gone into the room like I was supposed to, everything would have been better for you. And I'm really, really sorry."


	60. Chapter 60: Story Snippets 35

Tris started to silently cry through her thoughts about what moving on would feel like. Would he break it off all at once, would he just stop talking to her, rush past her in the hallway, slip supply requests under her door when she was at lunch? Would he wear that Abnegation smirk and keep his eyes down, stay politely fake for the rest of their lives? Would she never see her Dauntless friends again? Would they all take his side? Would anyone ever love her, hold her? Maybe if she never told them what she did, someone would.

* * *

She only looked small when he had time to think about it. It crossed his mind once, in initiation, that she was projecting how she felt, how she saw herself; or maybe he was projecting onto her how he thought she should feel. In either case, she looked fragile, worn out and thinner sitting on the bench. Her skin lacked the usual vibrance and luster. Her hair was tatted and hastily pulled back.

She came alive when she took in the black pants and his un-Dauntless boots that settled into her fixed stare.

* * *

These lips are as foreign to him as the aggressive press of her hands. There's hesitation in her quick and needy grasp. She's not tentative about where she places his hands. And there's no doubt that she's building off a story she scripted in her head.

* * *

He feels like his insides are being torn out with each heave of his stomach. That can [of food] had been dinged and damaged, but most of them were. It had smelled alright enough. Or maybe it didn't. He had to keep moving, through the cramping, the heaving, the knowledge that he was dehydrating minute by minute. When he finally collapsed into the structure, he whimpered and succumbed to tears in the corner, writhing and wishing for death.


	61. Chapter 61: Story Snippets 36

Its happening again. His body is tired but his mind won't shut off. Its like the heat signature from her body, two floors and a hallway away, has him on alert. That familiar urge to watch her sleep made his skin crawl, only this time she's behind her own locked door and he'd have no explanation if he got caught.

* * *

Pontificate. She'd given him the word one day when he was stammering out his frustrations and couldn't think straight to describe. He was over being a student, a drone. He was over the lectures and the pompous eulogies for the good ol' days. The days when people like him were killed for breathing.

* * *

No one close to him has escaped. Injuries, loss, death… He is the epicenter for the constant ripple of suffering extending out as far as he can reach and beyond. Bad things happen, he knows that. But some how it centers on him. When the ashes fall and mix with the water, and the cheers erupt, his decision is made and final.

* * *

Gravity. He can't break the pull she has on him. At every turn, she pulls his orbit closer. While his dabbling** path occasionally drags elliptical towards someone else, he is never truly free on his binding journey towards her.

**I'm almost certain this is a phone auto-correct, because there are infinitely better words. Wobbling is a much better fit.


	62. Chapter 62: Short intimate moment

**I can't remember why this starts this way. I probably had Tris go missing at some point or caught in cross fire, or something. But anyways... a little something from a folder literally called "Sex Scenes - Out" and yes, there is a complimentary "Sex Scenes - Keep" folder. :)**

* * *

"I am so glad you're alive." He sighed, "I thought I might never get to hold you again." He kept his hands on the back of her thighs, his lips pinching the skin between her hips. Her hands carded through his hair.

She pushed him back a little, unbuttoning her fly and let him pull her pants off her hips, regaining a little of her confidence when his lips never stopped and instead tugged on the elastic of her panties. His hands were calloused and rough, feeling like fingernails all the way down her hips, taking the thin cotton with them.

She sank down onto her knees, her turn to lick shapes into his skin and press out moans. His shifted and flicked the further down she moved, his hands gripping through her hair trying not to push her lower.


	63. Chapter 63: story snippets 37

The halls were alternating clear or panicked. The sporadic sound of movement rousing their contented heads from musty sheets. Only stragglers rushed past them with annoyed glances and harsh command. Spurred into complementary movement, they joined the masses in the pit. They missed so much while cocooned away, enveloped by overwhelming desires.

* * *

All he has is the pull of his hands on her back and her butt and the shove of her feet propelling her backwards. The push and the pull is slow and the draw of him inside of her stilted by the small movements. He needs her faster, wants her harder, his ears burn to make her moan louder and maybe even shriek with joy an surprise. But she's grinding slow and precise towards her own ends. He could never be so selfish as to interrupt her just for him.

* * *

He's a puzzle of woven tissue and misfiring neurons that both begs for and yet forbids being unraveled. She's a field mouse on marshy soil hoping to tread light enough not to sink and even to skim across the open puddles on the tattered leaves from fallen dreams. As she boldly scampers, he tightens the tangles that hold and protect him with the strength of spider's silk and none of the utility.

* * *

He hesitates, letting the sauce gloop off the spoon. Amar's never looked like that. Maybe… No. It didn't say to peel the tomatoes. He didn't even know if he could peel a tomato. His friends were laughing behind him, amused and asking if there was a problem. He shrugged his shoulders around his ears and hoped they'd be kind.


	64. Chapter 64: Longer Intimate Moment

**Also from the "Sex Scenes - Out" folder... not sure what he was promising, but it was probably up to no good.  
**

* * *

He promised, kicking off his clothes and pulling her's off while he was up. She covered herself, just slightly with her thin arms, then focused on him.

She peeled up the hem of his shirt and he let it come up over his head.

He undressed her, first with his eyes and then with his hands. The sweater coming quickly and without hesitation, but she stopped him when he pulled on her tank top. She unbuckled his belt, instead, his hands relegated to her hips, his mouth on her ear and then just below it. He liked the urgency, the quickness in her movements when she had him down to just his shorts, letting him step out of his jeans. He again started to peel at the hem of her tank top, this time she let him slip his hands up her side. He felt the hesitation, a hitch in her breath and the twist of her jaw away from him as he let his fingers wander over her right breast.

She wasn't breathing, her body tried to gasp, her chest heaving against the blockage in her throat. He froze, "Are you okay?" He pulled his hands out, letting them settle on her hips, pulling her toward him when he sat down on the bed.

"Yeah." A two inch voice stuttered through an uneasy inhalation.

"Hey, it's okay." He smiled, holding her face so she had to look at him. "I like the way you look." He tried.

"I don't look like you remember."

"Neither do I, but you didn't run." He added, "Give me some credit, give yourself some credit."


	65. Chapter 65: Second Opinions

**After discussing his grand gesture options with Lauren, I wrote a little complimentary scene for him to talk to Melissa about it. But, timeline wise, it didn't fit. It's the first pass, which means it lacks the typical finishing touches that make things flow, sorry it's a bit choppy sounding, but you get the picture. There's a little part about how he feels about Tris that I might still lift into another chapter, but we will see. It really only fits with him talking to someone about Tris and not in him talking to Tris. May 2017 treat you well, and (for most) better than 2016.**

* * *

"Your friend, Lauren, sounds like a very insightful person. You've never mentioned that you have a confidant like her in Dauntless."

"Uh… oh, well, she's been my friend for almost as long as I've been there. We've done some favors for each other." He could tell Melissa's next question so he answered preemptively. "She and I pretended to have a relationship for a year so our friends would stop trying to fix us up with other people. We had to spend a lot of time together to pull it off."

"Interesting. You've talked before about how you find trusting people difficult. Was it difficult with Lauren?"

"She used to be Candor. Somethings she let slide, but she called me out on a lot of stuff."

"Like what?"

Four was about to answer, but a glance at the clock reset his mission. "With respect, Melissa, I don't really need to delve into my reliance on Lauren to be my better judgement. The fact is that she is providing me a third party perspective and I need help thinking through that. So would it be okay to just make a note about my mis-placed maternal emotions — or what ever you're gonna call it— and come back to that later?"

"Oh, sure. Um, so what is it that you need help with?"

"Tris. She's not trusting what she feels right now, and she doesn't know how to feel about me because of it. So she's reading into… I haven't told her that I love her. So she doesn't believe that I do."

"Do you?"

"Yes." He said.

"How do you know that you love her?"

"I… I know you expect me to say that it's because I think about her all the time, or because I want to be with her more often than not, or that because I want to be intimate with her. But it's different from that. I don't think about her all the time. It's not infatuation, not any more. It was in the beginning, but not now. It's that I think of her first. I want to tell her things first. When I think about going to diner, I want to see what her plans are. When I think about my plans for the day, or if I need work boots or my jacket, I think about what we might do later and I change things to suit that. It's that I want her to be part of everything in my life in a way that I've never wanted anyone else to be. That's how it is."

"I really like this direct side to you, Four. It makes this very easy and clear for me. Honestly and frankly speaking. " Melissa smiled, "So, then if you know you love her, why haven't you said it."

"It's the abandonment issue. It's what we've been talking about the last month or so."

"I agree. What do you need me for, then?" Melissa chuckled.

"Tris doesn't believe me and so Lauren suggested I do something huge that shows Tris that it's true."

"Like what?"

"She mentioned that I should put going factionless on the table."

"Alright. Would you go factionless for Tris?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"The Dauntless aren't supposed to interact with factionless people. Not former family, not friends, no one."

"But if you went factionless with Tris, you'd have Tris."

"Yeah, but I'd lose Zeke, and Hana, and Amar, and Lauren…"

"So you love them more than you love Tris?"

"It's a lot of people."


	66. Chapter 66: Appointment

**Chapter 47 was a cluster before editing. It was literally 9-12 short, short scenes that I'd dropped together and was trying to make it blend. I stepped back and refocused the goals and then expanded what was left into what got posted. But, in there there's a reference to an appointment. And this is that appointment. There was also a little scene snatched out that had to do with Lauren's injury becoming known to all her friends and her having a very public outburst. That's about all you need know about that. **

**Content warning, I think some people may find this hard to read. I was referring to it as "the torture scene". It is purposefully brutal to push Tris's mental state in a way that injuries and repetitive, painful treatments can often cause depressive episodes in patients.  
**

* * *

Zeke approached the back door where Tris was sitting on the floor. She was exhausted and in pain. The healing serum had helped dull the ache, but it was back with a furious pounding. She was not looking forward to her discussion with the doctors. Undoubtedly, they'd lecture her on putting pride aside and using both the brace and the sling. He tapped her boot with his and held out a hand to pull her up.

"Where's Four?"

"He's going to meet you at the hospital after your appointment."

"Is Lauren okay?"

He looked relieved, "Oh you know? Good, cos I gotta talk to someone about it! Yeah, she's fine, for now, she says she was just 'having a moment.' Four got her calmed down. But she's had a few outburst almost every day since they sent her home — bad dreams, flashbacks. I'm wondering if it's all the stress with initiation coming up. It's getting concerning. Like, I don't know if she should be leading patrol. She probably shouldn't even have a gun right now. I talked to Janice about it and she's got Karla checking on her every couple hours."

"What's so stressful about initiation?"

"Well, because of Raf. He's not Dauntless. He's doing the aptitude test with all the kids at school, but there's no way he's getting Dauntless. He might be Divergent, or what ever, but I think he's probably Erudite. Lauren must think so too. She's freaked out that he won't have the stamina to make it through. She couldn't bring herself to do initiation." His eyes flicked to his wrist, "Come on, let's go."

"I guess I never thought of that. He survived Milwaukee. I know that wasn't easy. I just assumed he'd fly through initiation."

"We will see, won't we? So, how was your first day in Dauntless?"

"It was okay."

"Leadership, up with the chair warmers? That's a nice, cushy job. Sounds boring."

Tris laughed, "It was. My head feels like jelly. And not in the 'Oh I learned so much' way."

"Well, when you're up there making tea and cookies, spit in Scout's cup for me, will ya?"

"What she do to you?"

"That bitch. That bitch used to fuck Eric. She was at his every beck and call. I have no idea how she got voted into leadership. I know I still don't trust her."

"She went to Erudite and didn't get wiped?"

"Well, no. She stayed with us. But still, she actually hung around Eric a lot. There's no way she didn't know something and then we all end up zombies."

"Oh, did she not get the serum?"

"I guess she did."

"So knowing Eric didn't save her from the mind control?"

"No. I guess not."

"Hmm…"

"Just spit in her tea, okay?" Zeke huffed.

Zeke had been thinking about the past a lot in the days leading up to Choosing Day. While they waited in the little room, he told her about learning to jump the train on his own when he was eleven. And about the lizards he liked to catch and put in Uriah's bed. He had lots of stories about family gatherings and relatives that had passed. It helped keep her nerves at bay. But when they called her name, her hand started shaking. Tris handed Zeke her bag and her keys. She paused before following the nurse, "If you hear things, don't tell Tobias, okay? He shouldn't know."

Zeke furrowed his brow and glance around suddenly more nervous than Tris. It was ten minutes before he heard the first shrill squawk echo down the hall. Four arrived just in time to hear the second.

"What is that? What are they doing back there?"

"I dunno." Zeke commented quickly. He passed Tris's stuff and avoided eye contact, "Keep an eye on your watch, you don't want a third shift." He hustled out, hiding his cringing face. And leaving Four to make his own assumptions.

Four planned on dozing in the waiting room, but the residual unease he felt from the rhythmic yelps kept him on the edge of his seat. The volume had eased but the quality had stretched out into a miserable sobbing that was barely audible through the door. He shifted and walked to the far wall hoping to get a little distance and lose the noise all together.

"Uh, who's here for Tris?" An Erudite nurse looked around at the three uncomfortable faces. Tobias stood. "She's recovering a little slow. It's often hard the first treatment, but maybe you can comfort her some."

Tris was panting, the technician was removing the electrodes from needles pressed deep into her flesh. He almost threw up realizing she'd been the source of the noise. "What the Hell were you doing?" He grabbed her hand and squeezed. She didn't have any strength in her grip.

"It's the connection therapy. You know, so that the muscles bond to the implant and the nerves get switched on?" The technician stated.

"Does she have to do this again?" Tobias searched around and then pulled a tissue from a nearby box. He started to dab the tears off of Tris's eyes.

"Usually they do three and then a scan and then more, if needed. I've never done anyone without sedation before. Like, is that a crazy Dauntless thing? I've mostly done Candors. We have to knock some of them out cold." He finished withdrawing the last of the needles and wiped around her incision with a gel coated pad. Tobias pulled a chair up, concerned that she hadn't opened her eyes yet. She'd barely moved at all. A nurse brought in a heated blanket and rubbed her feet, her brow knitted together in concern. Tobias took a cue from her and started to rub Tris's hands and fore arms. She took in longer breaths and started to stir.

Tris didn't look at him while she dressed. She pointed at the new shoulder splint they'd laid on the end of the table. He held up the board it was a different design with an extra cuffs and straps that would secured her better. It took a moment to make sense of it. She directed him with shaky hands. Her voice was hoarse when she finally spoke, "Can you pull it a little tighter, please?" He complied, "Thank you." She was surprisingly steady when her feet touched the ground. She pushed away from the table and headed towards the door.


	67. Chapter 67: Story Snippets 39

**Hey, I'm still alive. Here's some snippets.**

* * *

These memories are so recent she still aches in unfamiliar ways. So tantalizing, she can't shut off the random reflections that interrupt the quiet moments of her day. She's overcome by rumination so vivid the pain of healing stretches is replaced by increasing need. She tries to hide her blush as she seeks some small privacy in the single stall bathroom across the building and a floor up.

.

* * *

.

Everything is warm. Not just in the cozy temperature in the small space but in the hues and softness of the couch and pillows. And in the delicious smell of spiced tea with dark rum. There's also the comfort of idle chat and drunken complements that devolve into intimate hugs and a less than chaste kiss. Softness envelops them taking away the harsh angles of youth and the merciless wants of lust and instead instilling content safety in tender touches.

.

* * *

.

It's masochism and he has been avoiding hurting himself but its also an addiction he can't resist. Just a little indulgence to see how much pain she can still inflict even though he already knows too well its a lot. He leans in, making his presence known and silence falls like caught children discussing their parents secrets. He insists, prods, almost begs for any news of her. When they oblige, slow and tentative, the burn and ache feels fresh and deep. They deliver the details and he winces when it gets hard to breath, but he doesn't want them to stop.

.

* * *

.

It's not so easy when there isn't anger and betrayal as a motivator. When its just lust and a physical longing, he feels less justified. He's entertained the idea. He has even stepped into the back hallways a few times after drinks but nothing comes of it besides his embarrassed retreat.


End file.
